


The Things That Haunt Us

by creativelydrained



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: A little stucky, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Historical Inaccuracy, Injury, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Missing in Action, No Captain America, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, War, World War II, and then peggy gets sent off to fight, angie is worried, but a bit of steve rogers, i don't know anything about war i'm sorry, it's real angsty but also real cute (i hope), no superheros, peggy and angie meet before the war, peggy is a bit cocky, some blood, some lesbian longing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativelydrained/pseuds/creativelydrained
Summary: Angie Martinelli could not believe her luck when Peggy Carter walked into the Automat one night. The two instantly become close, and Peggy moves in next to Angie at the Griffith. Their life seems perfect, but then the United States joins WWll and everything changes.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers (minor), Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli
Comments: 32
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Wow, it's been a hot minute, sorry for all my unfinished WIPs... I don't really have an excuse other than life happened, and I was crazy busy and had a lot of things going on. But guess what! Now I have literally tons of time and am super bored, so you're in luck. I don't know if anyone still follows this ship/fandom, but here goes. I'm super pumped about this story and I hope you like it.

“Goddamnit!” Angie cursed as she dropped the glass she had been cleaning. The diner was empty, save one lone costumer sitting in a corner booth. It was the end of a long shift, and her patience was wearing thin. She grabbed the dustpan from under the counter and knelt to sweep up the glass. As she did so, the bell on the door rung.

“I’ll be right with you!” Angie called. She stood, and -- Jesus Christ. She found herself face to face with the most beautiful woman Angie had ever seen. The woman sat at the counter directly infront of Angie. Her lips were bright red, her hair perfectly curled, and her cheekbones… goddamn. But mostly, it was her eyes that fascinated Angie. Her eyes were a light brown, the color was perhaps nothing special, but the warmth, and intelligence, and light behind them that made Angie want to get to know her better.

“Excuse me?” Angie snapped back into reality at the sound of the woman’s voice. It was polite and accented -- English, Angie thought.

“I’m sorry hon, it’s been a long day. What can I do for you?” Angie recovered, hoping the woman wouldn’t notice her gawking.

“I’ll have some tea, please. Earl grey, if you have it,” the woman said, running a hand through her chesnut hair.

“Sure thing. I’m pretty sure we have some somewhere,” Angie said, shuffling through the shelves. “Bingo!” she grabbed a cup from the counter and started to boil some water. “Probably not as good as the stuff you’ve got in England, but it’s all I’ve got for ya.”

“I’m sure it’ll suffice,” she said with a smile.

“And, here we are,” Angie grinned, pouring the water over the teabag in the cup, sliding it across the counter.

“Thank you… Angie,” the woman said. Angie was startled at first that she knew her name, but quickly realized she was wearing her name tag.

She shrugged, trying to be nonchanlant, “Anytime, English.”

The woman quirked an eyebrow, “English?”

“What, am I wrong?”

“I suppose not,” she smiled, taking a sip of her tea. She made a little face (adorably, if you asked Angie), but kept drinking.

“Not so bad, huh?”

The woman just smiled again, and took another sip. Angie giggled, before heading over to the corner booth again, a slight spring in her step. Angie wasn’t quite sure what, but something about this newcomer held her attention, fascinating her. She returned to the counter, juggling the various dishes she had cleared, sliding them into the kitchen.

“So, what’s a fancy English gal such as yourself doin’ in the States?” Angie asked, trying to keep her voice calm and collected.

“Work,” the woman said vaguely, seemingly avoiding a straight answer.

“Oh yeah? What kinda work?” Angie countered, her interest piqued.

She sighed, running a hand through her perfect chesnut hair, “Military, actually.” Angie’s eyes widened in surprise and opened her mouth to reply, but the woman quickly added, “Nothing to intense, mostly deskwork, paperwork and the like.”

“Huh,” Angie nodded. “You must be real busy right now. What with… Everything…” she waved her hands for emphasis. As she gazed at the customer, she couldn’t help but picture her in a military uniform, looking fierce and intimidating.

“Yes, I suppose we are,” she said, taking a long sip of tea. “What about you? Have you always lived in the city?”

“Born and raised!” Angie said enthusiastically, earning a laugh from the woman. “Couldn’t imagine livin’ anywhere else. My whole family’s here, all one million of them.”

The woman smiled, “That must be nice.”

“Do you ever get homesick? You must miss your family.”

“I do, terribly, but I’m afraid I don’t have much to return to. My parents passed when I was young, and my brother is a soldier,” she said.

“Oh, jeez, English, I’m so --”

“It’s quite alright,” the woman smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you very much for the tea. It was lovely,” she said as she stood to go, placing a few dollars on the counter.

“Will I see you around here again?” Angie asked, a little too hopefully.

The woman looked surprised, “Would you like that?”

“I would. Very much.”

“Alright,” she nodded, “I’ll see you later then.” And with that, she was gone.

Angie let a loud sigh escape her as she leaned on the counter, putting her head in her hands. She stood up straight, giving a quick celebratory pump of her fist, and a giggle, before beginning to close up the diner. As she scrubbed the counter, she wondered if the woman would actually come back. Angie hoped she would… God she really, really hoped so.

“Hey, what are you smiling about, Ang?” Gloria grinned, throwing an arm around Angie.

“It’s nothin’ Gloria, don’t be so nosy,” Angie giggled.

Gloria rolled her eyes, “Come on, tell me! Is it a boy?” Angie blushed, which was the wrong move. “It is! Oh my god, you met someone, didn’t you! Who is he? Did he come into the Automat?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Well, what’s he like? C’mon, let’s go to my room, you can tell me everything,” Gloria squealed.

Gloria practically dragged Angie upstairs, and didn’t stopped babbling on until they were sitting on the couch. “Spill!”

Angie sighed, “Well… He’s very handsome… Brown hair, brown eyes, and… He’s serious -- in the military.”

“Ah… Soldier. Well that’s very impressive.”

“I’m not sure what he is. He wasn’t very clear. Didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I mean, that’s understandable. Especially if he’s worried about if we’ll join the war or not. It must be scary. Knowing there’s a chance he could be sent away to fight at any moment.”

Angie nodded numbly. Gloria continued to talk, but Angie wasn’t listening anymore. She hadn’t even thought about this woman being sent off to war. The U.S hadn’t even entered World War Ⅱ, technically, and the woman claimed she just did paperwork… But this new fear infiltrated Angie’s mind, and she couldn’t help but think about the woman and her possible fate as she fell asleep that night.

The next time the woman came into the Automat was a week later. Again, it was late at night, an hour or so before closing. She sat at the same stool as last time, at the counter. “English! I was wondering if you’d ever reappear!” Angie exclaimed.

The woman faltered, “Really?”

Angie felt her cheeks go hot, “I mean, I just wondered, not like I was thinking about it a lot or anything, that would be creepy,” she said, giggling uncomfortably.

“I see,” The woman smirked.

“Earl grey again?”

“Please,” she nodded, unfolding the newspaper she had been carrying.

“Hey, English, I realized after you left, I never caught your name,” Angie said over her shoulder as she prepared the English woman’s beverage.

“Oh, how silly of me. It’s Peggy. Peggy Carter.”

“Peggy Carter,” Angie said, testing the name out on her lips. “It suits you!” she confirmed as she handed Peggy her tea.

“Well, thank God. It would be a shame to have to change it after all this time,” Peggy said sarcastically.

Angie laughed, “You’re funny for a military gal, Peggy!” Peggy just smiled.

“And you are Angie…”

“Martinelli,” Peggy nodded and started to flip through the paper. Angie peeked across the counter to see what she was looking at, “You lookin’ for a place?”

Peggy looked up, “Yes, actually. Any advice?”

Suddenly, a crazy, terrible, perfect idea came to Angie. “Well, there is this one spot. It’s at the Griffith Hotel. Very respectable, proper space, all young workin’ women, like yourself. One bedroom, one bath, breakfast served every mornin’.”

“That sounds like paradise,” Peggy smiled.

“It is! I would know, I happen to live there! The apartment next to mine just opened. I know it’s a kind of weird thing to suggest, we don’t know each other, hardly at all, but I just though maybe you’d like--” a hand on Angie’s stopped her rambling.

“It sounds wonderful, Angie,” Peggy Carter said, her hand delicatley resting on Angie’s own. Their eyes met for one perfect moment, before Peggy abrubtly pulled hers back, realizing what she was doing. “Perhaps… Perhaps I’ll stop by sometime, put my name on the list.”

Angie retrieved her own hand from the country, shoving it in her apron counter, trying to stop the blood from rushing to her face. “Watch out for Miriam Fry, she’ll be the one interviewin’ ya. She’s brutal, won’t accept anyone who’s less than perfect… You… You shouldn’t have a problem.”

“Well, thank you.” The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, Peggy busying herself by flipping through the paper, Angie wiping down the counter in front of her, although it was already clean. “How was your shift today?” Peggy asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh, you know, long. I never like the late shift. Well… I didn’t.”

“What’s changed?”

Angie’s eyes flickered to her stained apron, and back to Peggy, “The company’s gotten a bit better,” she said, smiling.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Peggy breathed.

And god, all Angie wanted was to leap over the counter and kiss this woman. Her red lips were so perfect, and Angie could imagine their lips crashing together, all the heat, and intensity, and passion that she could tell was hidden inside of Peggy. She wanted nothing more than to know every single thing about her. “You should come to the Griffith sometime this week for your interview. Ms. Fry will give you a hard time, but as long as you pretend your one goal in life is to marry a man, and you work at… I don’t know… a phone company or something.”

“Angie Martinelli! Are you suggesting that I go undercover in order to procure an apartment?” Peggy gasped mockingly.

Angie giggled, “Yeah, go full secret agent.”

Peggy laughed, “Alright, I’ll give it a try.”

“Come by Friday at 4? I get off early that day.”

“I think I could make that work,” Peggy nodded, “Thank you for this, really Angie. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, English.”

“I’m afraid I’ve better get going. This was lovely, thank you,” Peggy stood, gathering her things.

“See you on Friday!”

“See you on Friday,” she confirmed, before turning and heading out of the diner.

Yet again, Peggy Carter had left Angie breathless and flustered. She couldn’t believe she essentially asked her to move in with her on their second interaction ever. And it actually worked. Holy shit.

“Is your friend always late, Ms. Martinelli?” Ms. Fry asked coolly, tapping her pen against a clipboard.

Angie’s stomach sunk. Peggy was 15 minutes late, which wasn’t long, but for Ms. Fry, it was unacceptable. “No, she is usually very punctual. She must’ve been held up with work, I’m sure she’s on her way.”

“I see. And where did you say she works?”

“Oh, the phone company,” Angie stammered. Just as Ms. Fry opened her mouth to ask Angie another question, Peggy rushed through the doors of the building, looking as flawless as ever.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, work held me up. Ms. Fry, I pressume? Peggy Carter, pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Peggy smiled, offering her hand.  
Angie grinned -- she knew Peggy would do great at this.

“Excuse me, Ms. Martinelli, if you could leave us for a moment.” It was more of an order than a request. Angie shot Peggy one more nervous look, before moving far enough away so that it looked like she wasn’t listening, but was still able to hear.

“Here is my file, Ms. Fry. I hope you’ll find it satisfactory,” Peggy said, sounding very proper and formal.

Angie could hear Ms. Fry flipping through papers, giving vague sounds -- either of approval or disapproval, Angie couldn’t tell. Finally, she said, “Your references are impeccable. How long do you see yourself working for the telephone company?”

Angie squeezed her eyes shut, crossing her fingers, praying Peggy said the right thing. “Only until I’m married, Ms. Fry.” Angie sighed in relief, looking over her shoulder to give Peggy smile of approval.

“May I ask what brought you to America, Miss Carter?”

Peggy hesitated. “I had nothing left for me at home, I’m afraid. I wanted to come a place where I could find a nice man, and start a family of my own.”

Ms. Fry hummed under her breath, “In a city fill with temptation, debauchery, and mischief, the Griffith Hotel is a haven for proper young ladies. Our code of conduct is indisputable. Attire should be demure and elegant. Curfew is ten o’clock, no drinking, no men above the first floor. No exceptions. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly, Ms. Fry.”

“Very well. Here are your keys, and the welcome packet. I’m sure Miss Martinelli could show you up to your room. You two are right next to each other.”

Angie could hardly contain her glee as Ms. Fry walked away. The moment the older women left the lobby, Angie rushed over to Peggy, squealing in delight, grasping Peggy’s arms, “You aced it! I thought she got you on the question about coming to America, but you handled it perfectly.”

Peggy laughed, “She was tough. Lot’s of rules around here, huh?”

Angie nodded as they climbed the stairs, “Yeah, and she’s real serious. You get caught breaking one of them, and you’re outta here for good.”

“So everyone here follows them, then?”

“Aw, English, you’re cute. No, we just are real good at hidin’ stuff,” Angie explained. “Here we are! This right here, is your place. I’m right next door, 3C if you need a cuppa sugar.”

“This is great, Angie,” Peggy smiled, as she opened the door to her new place, “I’ll move in tomorrow morning.”

“Need some help? I have all day off!” Angie said enthusiastically, hoping she wasn’t overstepping the boundaries of their very recent friendship.

“Are you sure? I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“Of course I’m sure! I suggested it, didn’t I?” Angie assured her.

“Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you then, English.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Let me know in the comments (and kudos are always appreciated). I'm thinking of writing some chapters from Peggy's perspective but I'm not sure yet. Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie and Peggy get closer, and receive some bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit shorter, but I hope you like it!

Peggy Carter did not have a lot of material possessions. Not that Angie was a snoop. But what Angie thought would be a lengthy and tiring process, took merely 30 minutes. She had some clothes, makeup, a few photographs, a couple books, and various items for the kitchen and that was about it.

“Man, English, you’re making me feel like a hoarder over here,” Angie huffed as she placed the last box on the floor.

Peggy shrugged, “I guess I just don’t get very attached to material items.”

Angie slumped down onto the couch, “What do you do for fun then?”

Peggy opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it. “I don’t know… I enjoy exercising, and meeting sweet girls at Automats,” she said, a smug expression on her face.

Angie blushed furiously, “Shut up English, you talk to much.”

The two developed a comfortable schedule after that. Peggy would come into the Automat at lunch or sometime late at night, or sometimes both. They would see each other most days at breakfast at the Griffith with the other girls. Then, there were those special nights, where Angie would show up at Peggy’s apartment with a bottle of Schnapps and some left over diner food and they would sit and listen to the radio and talk for hours at a time. In these few months, Angie felt like nothing could ever change.

\-------

One night, after a particularly grueling shift at the diner, Angie rapped on Peggy’s door. Peggy hadn’t come by the diner that day, which wasn’t particularly unusual or worrying, but Angie wanted to check up on her. She could hear the radio playing softly inside, but Peggy didn’t come to the door. “Peggy?” Angie called, knocking again. She tried the doorknob -- it was open. “Pegs, I’m comin’ in!” The moment Angie opened the door, she knew something was wrong. She could tell something was off, but she couldn’t tell what. Peggy’s body was tense as she leaned against the kitchen counter, facing away from Angie. “Peggy? What is it?”

Peggy turned slowly to face Angie. If Angie wasn’t sure before that something was wrong, Peggy’s face confirmed it. She was pale, with dark shadows under normally bright eyes. “Why don’t you come in, darling?” Peggy finally spoke, her voice weary.

Angie slowly moved from her spot in the doorway to the couch in the living room, not taking her eyes off Peggy. “What is it Peg? You’re making me nervous.”

Peggy sighed, running her hands through her disheveled hair. "Angie... I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest about my profession." 

"What do you mean?" Angie felt her heart beat quicken. She had a guess at what Peggy was alluding to, but she needed to hear it from her. 

"I'm so sorry, Angie. I... I don't just do paper work, I'm a private in the army, and I'm being deployed to Europe."

"What?" Angie whispered, feeling her face going white. "When?"

"Tomorrow," Peggy said hesitantly, watching Angie's reaction closely. 

"Oh."

“Angie, I'm so sorry. I don’t know why I’m reacting this way. I signed up for this… I’ve been waiting for this, looking forward to the opportunity even… But, suddenly it feels so real…”

“Peggy.” The United States had entered the war the day before, and soldiers were being sent away to boot camps. Peggy wouldn't go to a boot camp... No, Peggy would go straight to the front lines, she already had the training. And that thought... The thought of _her_ Peggy Carter dodging bullets and fighting for her life, chilled her to the bone. 

“I’m so, so sorry Angie. Really, I am. I don’t want you to have to sit at home, wondering where I am. It’s not fair to you, and I understand entirely if you… If you don’t want to write letters, or be friends anymore, if it’s to much.” Peggy breathed all this out in a rushed string of words.

“Oh, honey… Come here,” Angie whispered. Peggy sat down next to Angie, her shoulders drooping, her head in her hands. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll… I’ll survive. But you… Peggy, you need to promise me you’ll fight to come back to me. I know you can’t… guarantee you’ll come back, but I need you to try. I know we just barely know each other, but you’ve become very important to me, and I just couldn’t bare--”

“Angie, stop.” Peggy looked up, and instantly Angie felt her heart breaking. Peggy reached out a soft hand and wiped away Angie’s tears. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. “Angie... You're my best friend. You’re important to me too,” she said gently, “I promise I’ll try my hardest to come back to you.”

“I’ll write you. I know you won’t always be able to respond, but I’ll write you everyday,” Angie said, grabbing Peggy’s hand, and squeezing tight.

Peggy nodded. “And I’ll write back. As often as I can,” she promised, gazing into Angie’s eyes. The thought of not seeing those eyes every day nearly killed Angie. 

"Angie, if I don't--"

“No. I’m not going to let you think that way. You will come back to me in one piece,” But as she said it, a small voice in the back of Angie’s head knew that wasn’t true. Even if Peggy came home, she would never be quite the same. Angie had heard people talking about the soldiers who came home from the first world war. Even the ones who were uninjured physically were never whole again. The horrors of the war filled their minds and changed them for good. Peggy looked at Angie and it was clear she was thinking the same thing.

Angie broke the tense silence, “Whadya say we make the most of this last night? I’ve got some booze over at my place.”

Peggy smiled sadly, “That sounds lovely, Angie. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, English,” Angie said as she hurried on the door. When Angie returned with some rather cheap wine and two glasses, Peggy looked at her so warmly, she wanted to lock the door and live in this world forever. “Here we are! Only the best for us!” Peggy chuckled. Angie poured two generous glasses of wine, handing one to Peggy.

“Have you heard anything from your brothers yet?” Peggy asked. Angie’s brothers had been sent away a few days ago, and although Angie knew it was naive to expect rapid responses, she had been anxiously waiting a reply to her letter.

“No, not yet,” Angie said, her stomach turning.

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Peggy assured her, placing a gentle hand on Angie’s bare arm. Angie looked up, meeting Peggy’s eyes. It was in small moments like these when Angie could just lean over, and kiss the other woman.

“Yes…” Angie murmured, ever aware of Peggy inching closer.

“Angie…” Peggy said softly, reaching a hand out to touch Angie’s face. Angie leaned into the touch, and the two women’s faces were only inches away from each other. She wrapped a hand around Peggy’s waist, all the while, waiting for her to jerk away.

“Is this okay?” Angie asked, and she could feel Peggy’s breathe on her neck.

“Yes, this is… This is okay...” Their foreheads touched, and Peggy let out a small gasp.

“Peggy… Can I… Are you okay if--” Angie was cut off by Peggy’s lips on hers. Angie inhaled shortly, pulling her closer, entangling her hand in Peggy’s hair. One of Peggy’s hands traveled down Angie’s lower back. The kiss was long, soft, and gentle, both women trying to make the moment last for as long as possible.

Eventually, Peggy pulled away, “Angie… I… I want to, but… I’m leaving tomorrow, and I just don’t think it’s fair to you.”

Angie pouted dramatically. “When you get back?”

“When I get back, we’ll do whatever you want,” Peggy smiled, rubbing Angie’s back. Angie leaned into Peggy’s chest, closing her eyes, and inhaling deeply. Peggy smelled like lavender perfume, fresh paper, and gunpowder from her military training. Angie felt Peggy burying her face in her hair.

“Okay,” Angie whispered. She pulled away, “You should get some sleep.” Peggy nodded, seemingly in a daze. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning then?”

Peggy frowned, grabbing hold of Angie’s hand, “Will you stay with me? Please?”

Angie felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes, “Of course, honey.” That night, they slept in Peggy’s bed together. Peggy’s strong arms held Angie close to her, and Angie dreamed of her touch and her scent and holding her and never letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Tell me your thoughts! Hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter up quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy goes out in the field for the first time and makes some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. Sorry for the delay - school's keeping me pretty busy. Hope you like the chapter!

_ Dear Peggy,  _

_ I miss you already, English. I know that's silly, but it's true. Today, there were some real assholes at the Automat. One complained that the coffee was too hot. Can you believe that? Too hot! I was so angry I could've slapped him right there. I didn't, of course, I demonstrated remarkable restraint, and made him another goddamn coffee. I couldn't help but think that if you had been there you would've intimidated them into behaving. _

_ My day got even worse when I went to an audition where I didn't even get through my whole song -- they cut me off! I thought I was doing quite well (listen to that, "quite". You're rubbing off on me!) but apparently they thought otherwise. I'm thinking I might just need to give up the Broadway dream and focus on something a little more realistic. Like a career as a secretary or something. God, that sounds boring, I want to cry just thinking about it. _

_ It feels selfish to complain about my day while you're off fighting, but I wanted to tell you about it. I hope you're doing alright and that the men aren't to terrible. And if they are, I hope you're showing them who's boss. I miss you so much, and will continue writing.  _

_ Yours always,  _

_ Angie _

Peggy clutched at the pocket in her jacket where she knew Angie's letter was stored as she took one moment to breath. Gunshots rang out all around her, and a mixture of mud and blood covered her face and matted her hair. She leapt out of the ditch she had rolled into, stumbling to her feet, adjusting her helmet with one hand. Her squad surrounded her, some lying on the ground, still and grimy, some crouched and shooting, many wounded. 

Her eyes landed on a small man, or boy, more like, with scrawny arms under his uniform, and hands trembling as he held his gun. She vaguely recognized him from the bus on the way out. She looked up and saw a German soldier aiming a rifle at him. "HEY!" she screamed. The boy turned to look at her, and she threw herself at him, pushing him to ground, her body on top of his. A gunshot rang out a millisecond after they landed, the bullet soaring over them. 

The pair lay there for a moment as the rapid gunfire continued overhead. Peggy gasped for breath, realizing she was still on top of the smaller soldier. She rolled off of him laying on her back next to him. The young soldier looked up and their eyes met for a split second. His eyes were blue, wide and frightened. Peggy gave a sharp nod as he blinked at her. Peggy began to sit up, and the moment was broken by a blinding flash of light and a deafening  _ boom.  _ Her head slammed against the ground, and Peggy felt the red hot heat on her face as she gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut. 

When she opened them, stars danced in front of her view, and her eyes rang. Soldiers fought in front of her in a haze of dust and smoke. She searched for the small soldier but couldn't find him. She scrambled backwards searching desperately for cover. Eventually she found some, lying on her stomach behind a bank in a way that allowed her to fire at the incoming soldiers safely. 

She remained in that position for what felt like mere minutes -- Peggy would later find out it had been far longer. One after the other, enemy soldiers fell. Killing people was new to Peggy. And she didn't feel much of anything. Perhaps it was the electricity of survival running through her veins that kept her from thinking about the emptiness in a man's eyes when they fell, or the many soldiers that looked like mere boys. She wondered what Angie would think of her now. She would probably be disgusted at Peggy’s casual cruelty. 

It wasn't till later, when the gun fire slowed, and dusk fell upon the soldiers that Peggy felt the weight of the battle slowing her limbs down. 

As she stumbled through the woods to the empty shell of a crumbling building she could see in the distance, where the rest of the squad had gathered, she finally realized her head was aching. Her eyes felt heavy, and when she touched the side of her head, her fingers came away wet and sticky. The walk seemed like miles. She trudged on, and every step felt like she was moving through waist deep sand. Her head was empty of all thought -- all she could think about was sitting down and closing her eyes. At last, she collapsed against the stone wall. The building was hardly a building anymore, and the ceiling was only sky. 

The other soldiers in the building had barely looked up at her entrance, and Peggy couldn't be bothered to raise her head to analyze them. She held her head in her hands, trying to will the pounding in her ears away. "Excuse me?" Her heart pounded and when she held her hands out in front of her eyes, they were shaking. "Hello?" Oh God, she felt like she just might die in this cold, dusty building, alone and scared. "Are you okay?" 

Her head snapped up. A small soldier was sat in front of her, his forehead crinkled in concern. "Are you alright?" Another, bigger man crouched behind him. He had light hair and blue eyes and a gentle smile.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Peggy lied. 

"You're a woman! And English!" The man said, and Peggy recognized him. It was the same small soldier as before. 

Peggy let out a short bark of a laugh, "I am." 

"Are you sure you're alright? You've got quite the head wound there," he said his eyes wandering to the side of her head. 

"I'm not quite sure. I'm sure I'll be fine." 

"Let me take a look." 

"What, are you a doctor?"

"Well, no..." the soldier looked around at the group of weary soldiers, "Is there a medic here? We've got a wounded soldier."

"God, no, please don't--" 

"Anyone?" There were a few shakes of the head. 

"Let me take a look," the soldier behind him said. He was taller and fuller than the other one. She remembered him slightly from training. Their squad wasn't that big, but no one had really made an effort to get to know each other. "I'm James, but everyone calls me Bucky. I'm not a medic, but I know enough." He came closer to her, and the smaller soldier took a step back. James looked closely at her head, squinting in the dim of the evening. "It doesn't look too deep and the bleeding is pretty slow. Can you tell me your name, miss?"

"Private Peggy Carter," she managed, blinking slowly. 

"Do you know what year it is? And who's president?" 

Peggy started to roll her eyes, but that hurt, so she stopped. "1941 and Roosevelt." 

"That's good. Can you tell me what happened?"

Peggy closed her eyes for a moment, frowning. "I... You were there!" she exclaimed, eyes shooting open to land on the other soldier. "I tackled you... And then there was an explosion."

James looked back at the soldier in question, an inquisitive look on his face. "Is that so? I didn't realize you and Stevie here had met."

"She saved my life," he said. "My name's Steve. Steve Rogers. I never got the chance to thank you." Peggy just shrugged slightly. 

"Well, Miss Life Saver, are you feeling dizzy? Or confused?" She nodded. "Any nausea?" She shook her head. "That's good. It seems you have a slight concussion, and some blood loss, but you should be okay." Then, James started unbuttoning his jacket. 

Peggy tried to sit up, "James, really, we've only just met," she quipped, smirking.

"Lay back down, Miss Carter, unless you want to pass out," James smiled, as he ripped a strip from his white undershirt. "Lift your head up a bit for me?" Peggy obeyed, and James gently wrapped the strip around her head, tying it in a knot. "There we are. How'd you come to serve in the U.S. Army then, Miss Carter?"

"It's Peggy."

"And I'm Bucky," James shot back. 

"Alright team, listen up," a tall shadow of a man stood in the doorway, hands on the hips. "We're moving in while it's dark. We want to try to breach the edge of the town. Everyone up!"

Steve and James got on both sides of Peggy, helping her to her feet. "Really, boys, this is a bit much. I'm perfectly capable of moving by myself." They ignored her, and the trio fell in line with the rest of the soldiers, lagging behind slightly, but making their way through the darkness. 

The group marched/hobbled in silence, lest they alert any enemy soldiers. As much as Peggy had insisted that she could walk on her own, she appreciated the support. With nothing but cold and numbness to fill her brain, she felt her mind drifting to Angie. Angie, who was so warm, and bubbly, and kind. Angie who would welcome her to the diner everyday, and cheer her up after a hard day. Peggy felt a blush rising under the grim that coated her face, and she couldn't help but smile slightly. The folded up letter was still in her pocket, and Peggy swore she could feel the warmth of it penetrating straight through her jacket and into her chest. 

Peggy stumbled slightly on a piece of debris, waking her from her daydream. Steve and James grasped her arms firmly, hoisting her back up. "You okay Carter?" James whispered. Peggy nodded numbly. 

"There a problem here privates?" their sergeant muttered, as he approached, having noticed their steps faltering. 

"No, sir." Peggy answered immediately. 

James rolled his eyes slightly. Steve replied, "Private Carter has suffered a head wound, sir."

"Is that so? Carter, are you capable of walking?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. I'm afraid we don't have any medics with us right now. You're going to have to suck it up till we get back to base, which won't be for a while, as you know. Once we get to our target, you may be able to sleep for a few hours. For now, walk it off. Understood?" 

"Yes, sir." Peggy replied automatically. She knew she had to get it together if she wanted to last the rest of the mission. They were sent to infiltrate a town under German control, and that took time, and wouldn't be easy. She shook James and Steve off of her. "I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own, boys. Thank you." James and Steve looked at her hesitantly, but obeyed, and they were off again. 

Peggy stumbled along, and was acutely aware of Steve and James walking slightly behind her, ready to catch her if her legs gave out on her. The night was cool and dark, and she felt herself shiver slightly as the wind picked up. The squad continued walking for a couple hours, but at last, they were ready to rest. The sky was already lightening with signs of day. 

Peggy allowed herself to fall to her knees in the grass behind the bank the team had stopped at. She lay onto her back, closing her eyes. She was vaguely aware of someone sliding something soft under her head. The air was still and dusty, and as she fell asleep, all her thoughts of violence and fear slipped away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought and what you think will happen next!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy, Bucky, and Steve continue their mission.

_“Good morning, English. Sleep well?” sunlight streamed through the cracks between the curtains, the dust in the air sparkling in its glow, Angie’s hair gleaming golden._

_"Mmm..." Peggy moaned, a smile dancing on her lips, "You tired me out last night, darling..." Angie grinned slyly, leaning in, brushing her lips against Peggy's. "Angie... I have to work."_

_"They can wait," Angie's hand caressed her face, and their lips met in a deep, long kiss. Peggy inhaled deeply, smelling Angie's sweet perfume, coffee, laundry detergent, and... gun powder._

_"Angie... That... that smell..." Peggy pulled away from Angie's touch. The walls of the cozy apartment dissolved in front of her eyes, the floor became dirt, the sky was dark and stormy, and gunfire surrounded them._

_"Pegs, what's wrong?" Angie asked, her brow crinkling in concern._

_"You need to leave, Angie, it's not safe."_

_"English? Peggy?"_

_Peggy's head whirled around in a panic, ducking as a bullet whizzed past her head. "GET DOWN!" Peggy screamed, throwing herself on top of Angie, and Angie was trembling underneath her, and then she was gone. "Angie? Angie, come back. ANGIE!"_

"Carter!" Peggy jolted awake. Steve knelt behind her, a soft hand on her arm. "You okay?"

Peggy scrambled backwards slightly, shaking him off. "I'm fine, thank you Rogers," Peggy assured him, lifting a shaking hand to her head. It ached, but not nearly as much as the day before.

“You were saying something. A womans name --”

“It was nothing,” Peggy said sharply, cutting Steve off.

Steve looked at her uncertainly. "How's your head?"

"Much better, I can assure you." He nodded. "Good. Here, let me change that bandage. It's filthy."

"Steve, really, I'm fine --"

"Please. Let me," and his gaze was so tender that her heart softened a bit, and she nodded in agreement. Steve looked at her uncomfortably for a moment, "Er, let me just --" he turned his back towards her as he unbuttoned his jacket to reveal his undershirt.

"Honestly, Rogers, don't be silly," Peggy rolled her eyes. Steve ignored her, tearing a strip from his shirt just as James had previously. He hurried to put his jacket back on, fumbling with the buttons, before facing her again. He reached up and untied the bandage from around her head. Peggy winced slightly at his touch.

Steve stopped, eyeing her nervously, "It's fine, continue." He pulled the bloody bandage away, tossing it to the side, before tying the new one around her head. "There we go. All better," he smiled, and Peggy felt herself smiling back. "We're going in. You ready?"

"Of course," she said, struggling to her feet, and brushing the dirt from her pants. "Let's go."

They left their cover under the dim of the dawn, the air filled with ash and dust, the smell of blood and smoke strong. “All right squad,” their sergeant barked, “Team 1, you’re going northwest, as discussed. Team 2, you’re going northeast. Team 3, north. Team 3, be careful with your explosives. We don’t need anymore casualties. Understand?” The soldiers nodded in confirmation. “Meet at the discussed location, a few miles north of here. Okay soldiers, break.”

Steve, James and Peggy went with team 3, just them and a 2 other soldiers. Their objective was to reach the main base in the center of town, and blow it up. To do that, they needed to make it through about 2 miles of town first. “Carter, you good?” James murmured as they prepared to leave.

“For Christ’s sake, Barnes, you and Rogers are insufferable. I’m fine. Let’s go,” Peggy snapped. The team started walking, ducking from one form of cover to another. The town was quiet, eerily so. James and Steve walked ahead of her, the other two behind. As the approached a corner, Peggy could hear the sound of boots against the pavement. “Barnes,” she hissed, grabbing his shoulder and slamming him against the wall. Steve pressed himself flat against the wall next to James, both of them listening. Peggy pulled her gun from around her shoulder, her finger on the trigger, and the others did the same. The footsteps got louder and louder, until they rounded the corner, four German soldiers. Immediatly, the five of them fired, peppering the Germans with bullets, and they fell.

Peggy inhaled sharply, running her hand through her hair in relief. “Pay better attention next time,” she scolded, hitting James on the shoulder, then Steve.

“Good hearing, Carter,” James nodded, and Steve gave her a sheepish smile. They walked on, moving slowly and carefully. The came upon multiple groups of soldiers, but catching most of them by surprise, not having to much trouble. Eventually, their target was in view.

“There it is,” Steve breathed.

“Alright, Rogers, Carter, with me. Johnson, Berger, you go around the west side. Be careful. We want to clear the perimeter before we plant the bomb.” They all nodded in understanding.

Peggy, Steve, and James took off, walking slowly along the edge of the building, Peggy leading the way this time, gun at the ready. A crack of the stick alerted Peggy to an approaching enemy, and the soldier was barely around the corner when she shot, and he fell to the ground, silent. She turned back to the others. James raised an eyebrow, looking impressed, and Steve’s eyes were wide with awe. “What?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

Suddenly, their impressed expressions changed to fear and surprise, “Carter, behind you!” James shouted and before Peggy could process, a strong arm was around her neck, constricting her airway.

“Weapons down!” the voice barked in heavily accented English.

James and Steve obeyed, slowly lowering their guns and resting them on the ground. Peggy met Steve’s eyes, and they were filled with fear. She felt the grip on her neck tighten and darkness started to creep in on the edges of her vision. “Very good. Now tell me, what is your mission here?” the man asked, his voice sounding distant to Peggy’s ears.

“Don’t,” Peggy croaked, the burning in her throat growing more intense.

Steve’s panicked eyes flickered back and forth from Peggy to James, and he opened his mouth to speak. Before he could say anything, Peggy rammed her elbow backwards, hitting her captor in the gut. She stumbled forwards out of his grasp, crashing into the brick wall off the building they had been following. As she gasped for breath, she could see James landing a punch right in the mans nose, and heard a sickening crack. Steve delivered the final blow, cracking his gun down on top of the man’s head, causing him to crumple to the ground. 

Immediately, both men were at her side, helping her off the ground. Steve’s nose was bleeding -- the man must have landed a punch before they could subdue him. “Jesus, Peggy, are you alright?” Steve asked, prodding his tender nose with his finger and wincing.

“I’m fine,” she coughed, grasping her throat with a trembling hand.

“Bullshit,” James rolled his eyes.

“We have to keep going. We’re so close,” Peggy said. She saw Steve shoot a hesitant look to James, “Honestly, boys, it’s a war zone. This is nothing and you’re being ridiculous.” She shoved their supportive hands away from her, starting to walk ahead again. She heard Steve mumble something to James who snorted, but they followed suit.

They came around the back of the building, and waited for the rest of their squad to meet up with them. They waited… And they waited… “I’m sure they’re fine. Just being thorough,” Steve said shakily.

“Yeah, of course,” James nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

They stood there for a long time, every minute seeming like an eternity.

“We should look for them,” Steve finally blurted. Peggy stopped pacing to face Steve and James.

“Rogers, you know we can’t jeopardize the mission. If we go looking for them, whatever happened to them could happen to us, and then the mission’s off,” Peggy sighed, wiping sweat from her brow.

Out of the corner of her eye, Peggy saw Steve shot James a pleading look. “I’m sorry, Steve, Carter’s right.”

“So… We just… We just, leave them here? To die?”

“Steve…” Peggy pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this, but… We have to. It’s protocol.” Although her voice was confident, her heart ached in conflict.

“I can’t believe this!” Steve shouted.

“Jesus, Steve, shut it! You’re going to alert enemy shoulders, and then we’ll all be dead!” James hissed.

“We don’t have time for this. We need to get back to base from here before the sun goes down and it’s a long walk. We need to move on,” Peggy said sharply. Any regret or doubt she felt could wait for when they’re safe. They didn’t have time for that now.

James nodded in grim agreement, grabbing Steve by the arm and leading him into the woods. They walked a few yards into the woods, the building still within throwing distance. “Ready to run?” James asked, holding the grenade. They all nodded. Peggy looked over their ragtag group. They were exhausted, grimy, and bleeding, but surviving. Peggy felt her heart swell for these people she barely knew, and for the people they couldn’t save. These people who she never would’ve met if the war hadn’t started.

“Alright. On three.”

Peggy could feel her heart beating in every inch of her body.

“One.”

She tucked some of her blood stained hair that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear.

“Two.”

She coughed once, rubbing a hand over her neck.

“THREE!”

Bucky threw the grenade, and they took off, racing through the woods, the branches and nettles stinging their skin, leaving red scratches behind. Peggy heard the deafening sound of the grenade going off behind them, the heat on her back, the smoke on her tongue. She stumbled over a fallen tree, nearly falling, but felt James hand on her back, steadying her. They ran, and ran, and ran, until Peggy felt her lungs burning, and her legs go numb.

Finally, they stopped. Steve looked like he might faint, as he doubled over, dry heaving. Bucky gave Peggy a firm pat on the shoulder, face bright red. Peggy felt cold sweat dripping down the back of her neck.

“Jesus,” Steve gasped.

“Fuck.” James gave a disbelieving laugh. “We did it.”

Peggy’s heart burned in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she allowed her lips to twitch in a half smile. “I suppose we did. Good work, boys.” 

* * *

_Hello my darling,_

_I am sorry for not writing back to you sooner. I returned from a mission about a week, and have been recovering and debriefing ever since. The mission was a success, for the most part. I escaped largely unharmed, with only a small head wound and a sore throat (we shan’t get into it now, I truly am fine). My squad lost two men, who I really didn’t know at all, but I can’t help but feel partly responsible._

_I have made some… friends may be to strong a word… The other two men on my mission, James Barnes (everyone else calls him Bucky, but I refuse, just to bother him), and Steve Rogers. They are very kind, and helped me out quite a bit on our mission. I hope to continue to work with them, as I belief they could prove to be valuable allies._

_I am sorry to hear about your work and audition struggles. I wish I was there to knock some sense into those men. I do hope you’ve been doing better since the last time you wrote. Please don’t miss me too much, my dear, I will be home before you know it. Just take care of yourself. For me._

_I will be in base for a little while longer, and while try to write as often as possible. I apologize for how brief this letter is, but I'm being called back to work._

_All my love, Peggy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and the boys get to know each other a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* listen guys. I'm sorry. I have nothing to say for myself except that depression's a bitch and life sucks! But also I do genuinely enjoy writing for y'all so I will try to update more regularly. This chapter is pretty unedited and not a lot happens but I felt bad for leaving everyone hanging, so here you go. Hope you like it.

_ My dearest Peggy,  _

_ I can not explain how excited I was when I got your letter. I am so relieved to hear that you’re okay. Although I’m sure how much I believe you -- a “small headwound”? C’mon Peg. So I can’t say I’m not a  _ **_little_ ** _ worried about you.  _

_ I’m glad to hear you’ve made some “acquaintances”! That makes me feel a bit better, knowing there are people who can take care of you. Not that you need someone to take care of you. It just makes me feel better that you’re not alone, is what I meant. I hope you can let your guard down just a little, and let these boys be your friends. They sound nice enough.  _

_ Things have been alright here. Except for the fact that I miss you terribly, of course. Every night I go to sleep, I think about you, wherever you are, in danger, with strangers, possibly hurt, cold, and… I’m sorry. Somehow I’m managing to ramble even in writing. I feel like I don’t deserve to be here, in my warm, safe, bed, while you and so many others are off fighting. I know you’ll tell me to stop being silly, or whatever, but I can’t help it.  _

_ Work has been fine, same assholes a usual but nothing too bad. Auditions are as usual. No takers yet, but I’ve decided not to give up. If I give up acting, I’ll just be stuck working at the damn Automat for forever. Just you wait, when you get back here, I’ll be on Broadway, and you’ll get to come watch me. I’m mostly joking, but wouldn’t that be something?  _

_ I know I’ve said it a few times, but I’m gonna say it again. I miss you. So stay safe. Don’t forget, you promised we can do whatever I want when you get back. So you better come back in one piece because I have a few special things in mind.  _

_ Yours, forever and always,  _

_ Angie  _

Peggy smiled wearily, as a few tears welled in her eyes. She could practically hear Angie’s warm, bubbly voice as she read the letter. The memory of their last night together flickered through her mind, all soft lips and touches and warmth. That warmth had left her in the weeks that followed, replaced with a cold that seeped into her bones and her soul as she spent more and more time in the field and in camp, struggling through sleepless nights. 

She sighed, laying back on her cot, wrapping her arms around herself. One of the only perks to being one of the only women in the army was that she got her own tent. Not that it was much. A cot and her trunk and that was it. But at least it wasn’t as smelly as she assumed the men’s tents were. She was starting to become accustomed to the minimalist life style the military demanded of her. She didn’t need much, really. It felt greedy of her to even wish for more material items when she watched good soldiers, good men, die, every day. 

“Carter? You decent?” Bucky’s voice rang out from outside her tent door. 

Peggy sighed, but couldn’t hide the way the corners of her mouth quirked up slightly. “What is it Barnes?” 

Bucky’s head poked through the tent flap. “You, me, and Steve have been summoned by Colonel Phillips.”

Peggy furrowed her brow, searching her memory for anything she’d done wrong, “Any idea what for?” 

“No clue,” Bucky shrugged. 

The pair took off through the camp. It was a rarely beautiful day, the sun shining gently down as soldiers trained, planned, and recovered. Peggy herself had spent the past few days recovering from the injuries she had acquired on their mission. Her head wound was still healing and her throat tickled slightly, but there was no time for rest in a war. The moment she could walk in a straight line again, she was back to training. 

“Hey Buck, Peggy!” Steve jogged up from behind them, joining them as they neared the large tent in front of them. “You guys know what this is about?” 

“I was assuming you two did something to get us in trouble,” Peggy teased. Bucky gave her a light punch on the shoulder. She gasped in mock shock, “James Barnes, does your mother know how you treat ladies?”

Bucky chuckled as he pushed back the flap of the tent, “Oh please. I’ve seen you on the battlefield, Carter, you can’t fool me with the innocent lady act.” 

“You are right about that, Private Barnes. Private Carter can certainly hold her own in the field,” a voice said from inside the tent. 

The three snapped to attention as they faced their superior. “Colonel Phillips, sir.” Peggy said, giving both men an elbow in the gut as she heard Bucky snicker. She looked around the tent, scanning the faces. She recognized a few of them, some familiar from training or around camp. 

“Let’s cut to the chase, gentlemen… Ladies,” Phillips gave Peggy a meaningful glance. She returned it with a tight smile, her shoulders stiffening at the attention. “I have been notified by your fellow soldiers of your proficiency and achievements in the field. I have assembled you all to form a team meant for more… specialized missions. Intel and the like. Missions that require delicacy and skill. Each of you have proven yourself to be skilled soldiers. Private Dugan!”

“Yes sir,” Dugan stepped forward. Peggy remembered him. A good natured, mustachioed man. 

“You’ve been promoted to Sergeant. You will lead this squad. You will all be briefed on your first mission in the following days. Any complaints or questions can be brought to me. If you find yourself feeling unable or unprepared to take on this responsibility, please notify me immediately and you will be taken off the team, no questions asked. Understood?” 

“Yes sir,” the team barked in unison. 

“Carter, you stay here for a moment. I’d like a word.” 

“Of course, sir.” Bucky and Steve gave her sympathetic looks from behind the Colonel’s back as they left. 

“Private Carter. Your peers, specifically Rogers and Barnes, have raved about your skills in the field. Very impressive.”

“Thank you, sir.” Peggy nodded sharply. 

“And while every superior of mine has warned against letting a woman join my elite team, I am giving you a chance. A chance to prove yourself. You will be held to a very high standard, and if you do anything to make me regret giving you this opportunity, I will not hesitate to kick you off the team.” Peggy nodded again, but felt a boiling hot pool of rage forming somewhere in her stomach. 

“Understood, sir,” Peggy said sharply, keeping her face stoic. 

“Very well. How’re you feeling? I was told you took a bit of a beating out there.”

“Better, sir.” 

“Good.” 

The pair stood in a tense silence for a moment. “You’re free to go, Carter.”

“Thank you, sir,” Peggy gave one last sharp nod, and turned on her heel and left. As she exited the tent, she picked up her pace until she was jogging through camp at a steady pace, letting some of her frustration fuel her movements. 

“Peg, wait up!” She heard Steve call from behind her. She rolled her eyes, but slowed to a brisk walk, allowing him to catch up to her. “What was that about?” He asked as he fell into stride next to her. 

“Oh just the usual. Wanted to make sure I knew what a risk he was taking, choosing a woman for his special team,” Peggy answered, her voice dripping with barely contained anger. 

Steve snorted, “Pretty sure they’re taking more of a risk choosing the skinny asthmatic soldier than you.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Peggy scoffed, sitting down on a nearby bench. “You are a damn fine soldier, Rogers. They’d be fools not to see the potential you have.”

“I could say the same about you,” he said, giving her a meaningful look. She gave him a playful shove and he chuckled. “You got anyone at home waiting for you Carter?”

Peggy stiffened slightly. “I…” she wasn’t sure how much of Angie and her relationship she wanted to reveal. “Yes, I do.” 

Steve gave her a knowing look. “Angie?”

Peggy started, her face blushing furiously. “I’m sorry?”

He smiled sheepishly, “You were calling out for her in your sleep out there. Most soldiers tend to talk about their sweethearts in their sleep,” he explained, shrugging. “I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Peggy nodded, attempting to recompose herself. “What about you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to talk to women,” he chuckled. 

“You’re talking to one right now, aren’t you?” Peggy teased. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I hope I’m not overstepping, but I always assumed that you and Barnes…” Peggy trailed off, not wanting to make the young soldier uncomfortable. Now it was Steve’s turn to blush. 

He coughed once, rubbing the back of his neck, “What? No, no, of course… of course not… Buck and I are friends. Always have been, always will be.” Peggy just shook her head and smiled. She wasn’t stupid. She had seen the hugs and the seemingly innocent touches and looks the two shared on a regular basis. Someone else may have thought it was just friendship, brotherly love even, but Peggy knew romantic love when she saw it. In a horribly tragic way, it was comforting, knowing that she wasn’t the only one forced to hide her love. 

Instead of saying all this to Steve, she just said, “Of course,” resting a gentle hand on his forearm, a knowing glint in her eyes. He smiled gratefully, his cheeks still slightly pink. 

“Hey lovebirds!” a joking voice sounded from behind them. Bucky came jogging up to the pair, plopping down next to them. “Whatcha talking about?” 

“Phillips being a sexist twat,” Peggy grunted. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Bucky said. “You two want to eat lunch, or what?” 

The trio joined the line inside the dining tent, receiving their fairly bland and boring food before sitting down at a table together. They were eating and talking when all of a sudden the mustachioed man from earlier landed next to Bucky at the table with a thud. Two other men sat down across from him. 

“Well if it isn’t Miss Union Jack herself!” Dugan boomed cheerfully. 

Bucky snorted in her periphery and Steve bit back a smile. Peggy paused mid bite. “Dugan, is it? I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced,” she offered him her hand, “Private Peggy Carter.” 

Dugan gave her hand a firm shake, “Sergeant Timothy Dugan. Everyone calls me Dum Dum.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dugan,” Peggy smiled. The man was a lot, but his cheerfulness was infectious. 

“So, me and the guys here,” he gestured toward his cohorts, “were wondering what a dame like yourself did to get on one of most specialized teams in the United States Military?”

Peggy took a sip of her weak tea, “That’s none of your business, Sergeant.” 

“Hmm… I’ll figure it out,” Dugan assured her. 

“Perhaps,” Peggy shrugged coyly. 

\------- 

_ Ding! _

Angie’s head snapped up from her cleaning to see who was coming through the door. She caught a glimpse of chestnut hair, red lips, and her heart leapt. “English?” she murmured. The woman turned to face her and -- 

“I’m sorry?” the woman asked. 

Angie’s face grew hot, and she felt salty tears well up in her eyes. “My apologies ma’am. I’ll be with you in a moment,” Angie rushed, before spinning on her heel and taking cover in the back. She wiped the tears from her vision, her hands trembling. Every single goddamn time that bell rang, she couldn’t help but hope, beyond all reason, that Peggy Carter would great her with her sparkling eyes and blinding smile. And every time, she was disappointed. 

She pulled out a crinkled photo from her apron pocket, the one photo Peggy had left her with. It was slightly fuzzy, but there she was. Peggy smiling sheepishly at the camera, her eyes full of love. Her hair is down in its ever so perfect curls, and she’s wearing an green army issue jacket. Angie clutches the photo to her chest, closing her eyes, trying to hear the sound of Peggy’s voice or feel her touch. It had been 6 months since Peggy left. Angie sent her about three letters a week. In return, she received about one letter every three weeks. Angie treasured every one of them, but she couldn’t help but wish for more. She could tell Peggy was struggling -- of course she was, she was fighting in a damn war -- and it pained her to no end that she couldn’t hear every detail of her every day and comfort her when she was upset or injured. 

Her dreams were flooded with images of Peggy being hurt, Peggy being scared, Peggy  _ dying.  _ And she knew that they were just dreams, but she also knew that the dangers depicted in them were very much real for her beloved. If only she could -- 

“Hey! Girlie! Get back to work!” the chef’s gruff voice growled from the kitchen, snapping Angie out of her own head. 

“Right, sorry sir,” Angie said, sighing deeply and returning to work, although thoughts of Peggy swirled in the back of her mind for the rest of her shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought and what you want to see next!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We spend some time in the field with the Howling Commandos, and Peggy runs into a bit of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys... I've done it again. I hope at this point you've become used to my highly irregular posting schedule. I am kept incredibly busy with school, and theater, and, you know, depression, but I update as often as I can! Thank you to the few of you sticking with me, your comments and kudos mean the world to me. This week I used this chapter as a way to distract myself from the horrific U.S election that has seemingly lasted a month and a half already. I hope everyone is doing ok, all things considered, and that this chapter brings you some joy, no matter how small. Before we begin, let me just acknowledge that I'm very bad at writing action sequences, and I'm sorry.

“Carter, down!” Dugan hollered, as he tossed a grenade. Peggy flattened herself on the cold ground, inhaling dirt, as she felt the heat on the back of her neck. 

“Alright, everybody move in!” he yelled, waving his hand. Peggy leapt to her feet, grip tight on her gun, as she ran forward next to the others. 

It had been a five months since the team that had since been named the “Howling Commandos” had been formed. The men had become Peggy’s closest friends (although she would never admit that to their face of course). They had been on multiple missions together, each of them going well, with little to no troubles. Peggy had returned from each of them relatively unscathed, physically, with only cuts and bruises to show for all her work. However, this is not to say that the war hadn’t changed Peggy. Nights were excruciatingly long, as she would wake up screaming and sweating, images of dead men and warfare crowding her brain. She would sometimes simply give up on sleep, and roam the camp for hours at a time. Occasionally, on these nighttime walks she would run into fellow soldiers, doing the same. 

Smoke clouded Peggy’s vision, making her eyes water, as they stormed into the building. “Bucky, Rogers, go left, Carter, with me, the rest of you, up the stairs!” Dugan barked. Peggy nodded, glancing over her shoulder to meet Bucky and Steve’s eyes for a moment, before following Dugan into the dark hallway on the right. 

The building was eerily quiet and dark, although it was obvious that someone had been there recently or was hiding somewhere in the building. Doors were swung upen, a few stray papers lay on the ground. As they neared the first few doorways, Dugan held his hand up, signaling for Peggy to stop. He point at Peggy, and then to the door on the left, before pointing at himself and the door on the right. Peggy nodded in understanding. He signaled with his hands, counting down. 

_Three.... Two… one!_

Peggy kicked the door all the way open, gun up by her eye, ready to shoot. There was no one there. She lowered her gun, scanning the room for anything of interest. A folder of papers caught her eye, and she picked it up. The writing was in German, and she couldn’t decipher any of it. Suddenly, she heard yelling and gunfire from the room Dugan had gone into. She stuffed the folder into her bag, wrinkling the papers horribly in the process, before racing across the hall. 

Dugan was exchanging brutal blows with two German soldiers. The soldiers didn’t see her as she came in, and she used that to her advantage, slamming the butt of her gun over one of their heads, just as Dugan managed to knock out the other one. 

“Jesus, Carter, you took your time, didn’t you?” 

Peggy scoffed, “Oh really, Dugan, you had it handled.” 

“Oh sure,” Dugan nodded mockingly, “completely handled,” but his eyes shone playfully.

“Besides, I pocketed documents from next store.”

“Anything good?”

Peggy shrugged, “I can’t be sure, I don’t speak enough German.”  
  
“Alright. We better sweep the rest of these rooms for anything else. I doubt there’s anyone else down here, they would’ve come running when they heard the noise.”   
  
“Or, they’re waiting for us to walk down the rest of that hallway, so they can catch us off guard,” Peggy countered. 

“If that’s the case, then I guess we’re fucked, huh?” 

Peggy rolled her eyes, straightening her spine, and adjusting her grip on her gun, “I think you’re underestimating us, Sergeant Dugan.”   
  
Dugan gave her a sharp nod and turned towards the doorway. Peggy flattened herself against the wall on the right side of the hallway, Dugan doing the same on the left. They crept down the hall slowly, pausing to listen on occasion. At every doorway they peered around the corner, guns drawn, ready to shoot, before sweeping through the rooms to grab any papers. 

Peggy glanced over her shoulder to Dugan as she approached the last doorway on her side. He was going into the room opposite of her. She poked her head into the room and froze as her eyes met the eyes of a frightened looking young man. 

The man was cowering in the far corner of the room, gun pointed in Peggy’s direction. His hands were trembling so bad Peggy could see the barrel of the gun wobble. She took a deep shaky breath, unable to break the gaze. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice calm and firm despite the way her heart was thumping and her stomach flipping. “It’s alright. I’m putting my gun down, see?” Peggy gently set her gun down on the floor in front of her, before standing back up, hands above her head. “You don’t need to shoot me. I’m not going to hurt you.” The man’s face was pale and his jaw clenched. “You can put your gun down now, alright?’

“Just you?” the man barked in a thick German accent. 

“It’s just me and my friend in the other room. He won’t hurt you either. We’re just here to gather information, there’s no need to do anything rash,” Peggy said through gritted teeth. She didn’t feel too much sympathy for the man -- he was a goddamn Nazi afterall -- but she knew she had to keep him calm if she wanted to escape with her life. The soldier was jumpy enough that if she made one wrong move, he would shoot. “Put your gun down and nothing bad will happen to you.” The barrel of the gun lowered every so slightly. “That’s it. Just set it on the ground.” It lowered another inch. “Alright, good, just--”   
  


“Carter?” 

There was the sound of a gunshot, and then another one. The man lay crumpled on the ground, blood dripping from his temple. Peggy whipped around to face Dugan, her hair sticking to her face with sweat. 

“Jesus, Dugan, where the hell were you?” Peggy growled, feeling her face flush. 

“It seemed like you had it handled,” Dugan shot back, chuckling, “you alright?” 

“I’m fine, thank you,” Peggy nodded, taking one last look at the man on the ground. “I assume you got something good from over there?”

“I think so,” Dugan nodded seriously, “Now let’s get out of here.” He turned and started towards the door. 

As Peggy followed she felt something warm and wet trickle down her leg. She frowned, pausing, looking down. “Carter? Everything alright?” Dugan questioned. 

“I… I’m not sure,” she stammered. 

“Shit, Carter, is that your blood?” Dugan started as he noticed the crimson liquid pooling on the ground. “Peggy? Are you hit?” His firm hands grasped her shoulders as she swayed slightly. 

“My leg,” she managed. Her leg didn’t hurt, in fact, it was rather numb. 

The sound of footsteps on the tile floor below them stopped Dugan from asking any more questions, “We need to go. Now!” Dugan barked, wrapping his arm tightly around Peggy’s waist, allowing her to drape her arm over his shoulder. The two stumbled out of the building, the dim light of dusk shining through the smoke in the air. Peggy’s weight barely slowed Dugan down as she was much smaller than him, but it made things much more awkward. Their feet caught on roots and logs as they made their way through the woods. 

“Carter! Dugan!” a voice rang out once they were a considerable distance from the building. Bucky burst through the brush, followed by Steve and the rest of team. They pair slowed to a stop, and Peggy felt her knees give out from under her, sending them sliding down to the forest floor, Dugan breaking their fall. 

It was then that the pain hit her. “Fuck,” Peggy gasped, grasping for her shin, fingers turning sticky at the touch. It felt as though a fire poker was being pressed into her leg, left there to burn. 

She was vaguely aware of the men around her scrambling to help. “Dugan, what happened?” she heard Bucky demand, as Steve offered a comforting, “It’s going to be fine, Peg, don’t worry.” 

“Bullet must have grazed her,” Dugan growled as he cut away the pants leg around the wound. “Son of a bitch.”  
  


“But it’s just a graze, right? She’ll be alright?” Steve’s nervous voice responded. 

“With any luck, yes. We need to stop the bleeding and keep the wound clean. The biggest concern is infection.” 

Someone was prying Peggy’s fingers away from the wound. “Carter, you need to let go. If you don’t let go we can’t bandage it, and then you’ll really be in trouble, understand?” Bucky was saying. Peggy nodded, her teeth grinding as she bit down a cry, allowing Bucky to gently pull her fingers away to reveal the deep gash on her shin. He sucked in his breath as his eyes met the wound. “Alright, Carter, you’re gonna be fine. It doesn’t look like it hit a major artery, and we should be able to get the bleeding under control. We just have to hope it didn’t cause any nerve damage and that we can avoid any infection. Now, we’re supposed to make it back to camp tomorrow. So we can rest for the night, but in the morning we’re gonna have to keep moving, alright?” Bucky rattled off, his voice barely waivering. 

Peggy managed a smile, that may have came off more as a grimace, “That First-Aid training really came in handy, huh Barnes?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide his smile. A hand grasped Peggy’s bloodstained one. She looked up to see Steve, a nervous wreck, attempting to look calm. 

“Rogers, calm down. That’s an order,” Dugan demanded, although his tone gave away his amusement. 

“Yes sir,” Steve murmured. 

“In fact, instead of hovering around here making us all nervous, how ‘bout you get food ready for dinner.” 

“Yes sir,” Steve repeated, his face redening with the sudden attention. He scrambled to his feet, and started sorting through packs. 

“You scared the shit out of me, Carter,” Dugan said gruffly, placing a tentative hand on her arm. 

Peggy just shrugged, “Just trying to keep you on your toes, old man.” 

Dugan fully chuckled at that, “Well no need from now on, got it? I promise to be on my A game.” 

Peggy nodded seriously, “Sir yes sir.”

\------ 

_My darling Angie,_

_I cannot apologize enough for my delay in responding to your most recent letter. I was out in the field for an extended amount of time, and I’m afraid we ran into a bit of trouble._

_Before you get upset, I’ll have you know that I am doing just fine and expect to be back out in the field within the next two weeks. I cannot give you to many details of the mission of course, but I that I got grazed by a bullet on my shin. I am going to keep reiterating the fact that I am fine, and that you need not worry, although I know you’ll never listen. Dugan and the rest of the boys were with me and took fine care of me. There was only a slight infection which is now under control. The doctors say there may have been some minor nerve damage caused, but nothing too concerning._

_For now, I am slowly returning to training, and trying to avoid the boys’ constant pestering. Throughout all of this, my mind has never once strayed from you and your smile. I promised you that I would try my hardest to return to you and that has not changed. I know you wish you could help me, but believe me when I say you already are. You remain my shining light in the distance, warming me when I feel cold, and bringing me hope when I feel disheartened by the everyday horrors of the war._

_I must say that you may have been correct about Rogers and Barnes. I have become quite fond of them, along with the rest of our team, over the past couple months. I may even call them my friends, when pressed. I cannot wait for the war to be over so that you three can meet. I just know you will all get along swimmingly. They have picked up the nasty habit of teasing me to no end, much like you, so I shudder to think of the abuse I will suffer when your forces combine._

_I am thrilled to hear that you have decided to continue pursuing acting. I may be biased, but I truly believe you are incredibly talented and are going to accomplish huge things. I hope that I can be your light and your encouragement, just as you have been mine._

_It is nearing your birthday now, and by the time this is delivered it may have already passed. I can hardly believe it has been seven whole months since I have seen your beautiful face. I wish nothing more than to be able to send you every gift your heart desires. Unfortunately, I am not able to do so. I have, however, enclosed a few pictures of me and the boys, and hope that they can serve as a reminder of my love. The skinny, rather frail looking boy, is Steve (when you do finally meet him, kindly do not mention my description of him). The dark haired arrogant looking one is James. Forgive my rather ragged appearance, I am afraid there is not much time for make up or hair dos in the field. The boys would tease me mercilessly if they ever caught me applying lipstick._

_I hope you have a lovely time with your family on your birthday, my dear. Do not worry for me, I am doing alright, as long as I know I have you too come home to when this is all over. Enjoy yourself, and be merry. Know I will be thinking of you from over here, every day, until we meet again._

_Your eternal,_

_Peggy_

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. Comments are always appreciated and welcome, but just your presence and attention is all I need. See you in the next six months or whenever I decide to update next.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and the boys go on a mission, Angie worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie you guys, this one's a rough one.

_ Peggy, _

_ I want you to know how hard it is for me to not yell at you right now. “Slight infection” and “minor nerve damage”? Really, Margaret, you write me something like that and then ask me not to worry? I know,, it’s part of the war, and you can’t exactly come home on a whim, and I don’t know what I wish you would say instead, but I just… I can’t help but be angry with you, because if I’m not angry, I’ll just be worried and scared, and I can’t live like that.  _

_ I have decided to try and not be angry with you. Instead I will be angry with this damned war and the people who started it in the first place. I am so so angry that you are not safe with me in my arms, taking your lunch breaks at the Automat and sneaking into my room at night to drink and talk and…  _

_ I just realized that we have been writing like this for far longer than we were… together in person. You’ve been away from me for a year, Peggy. A FULL YEAR. I feel like I’ve known you forever, English, but it’s really only been a little over a year. I can’t imagine a world without you anymore, so don’t you dare make me live in one. You just keep fighting real hard over there so we can finally win this thing and you can come home. I have all sorts of plans for when you get back, just you wait.  _

_ Tell those boys that they better look after you. I’m glad you’ve made friends (I told you so) but they’re no good to me if they don’t keep you safe. Obviously you can take care of yourself hon, but wars aren’t easy and you could always use some extra help.  _

_ Thank you for the pictures. For the record, I quite like your “ragged appearance,” as you called it. My birthday was a nice as it could be without you. My ma made me a cake, and we had dinner. I’ll admit I’m writing this while on the job -- I’ve been swamped lately, picking up double shift since Lucille had her baby. The lunch rush is about to begin so I do have to end this letter here. I expect a letter soon telling me how you’re fully healed and rested. Stay safe, love, and remember that I am waiting, always.  _

_ Yours,  _

_ Angie  _

\---

“So, she real mad?” Bucky quipped from the entrance to her tent. 

Peggy’s head snapped up as she was brought out of her thoughts, quickly folding the letter and sliding it into her pocket. “You know she is. In fact, she had some words for you two, as well,” she said seriously as Steve’s short figure joined Bucky. 

“Us?” Steve’s brow furrowed, “What did we do?” 

“She seems to be under the impression that you fools could keep me safe,” Peggy scoffed, swinging her stiff leg off her bed massaging the skin around the still tender scar tissue on her shin. 

Steve caught the movement immediately, “You alright?” he frowned. 

“I’m fine, Rogers. Just a little sore.” 

“Let’s go back to the part where you called us fools and your girls is mad at us,” Bucky interrupted. Peggy smiled at the casual acknowledgment of her relationship. She had ended up telling Bucky about her and Angie not long after telling Steve. She had noticed that Bucky seemed to be under the impression that she was interested in Steve, and while she found it quite amusing, she decided to put him out of his misery. 

“While I don’t need your protection, nor do I particularly want it, you better watch yourselves. When you finally meet, you do not want Angie mad at you.”   
  


“Oh yeah?” Bucky chuckled. 

“Oh it’s no laughing matter, James. She can be rather fierce when provoked,” Peggy stood from her bed, not missing the way both men watched her movement carefully. “You two need to relax. I’m all cleared, remember? I’m going with you on that mission today.”

“Peg, do you really think that’s a good idea?” Steve took a small step forward, “You… You’re still sore, you said so yourself,” he said, pulling Bucky in front of him as Peggy met him with a glare. 

“He might be right, Carter,” Bucky said cautiously, eyeing Peggy as she moved towards him. 

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Barnes. I am a little sore, and that’s all. I’m perfectly capable of being back in the field. Besides, it’s a big one today, and I’m not letting you two have all the fun,” Peggy gave Bucky a seemingly playful shove to the chest, but it was hard enough to send him stumbling backwards a bit. She grabbed her jacket from her bed, pulling it on. “Now, let’s stop standing about, Dugan will have a fit.” 

\---

_ English,  _

_ I’m not gonna lie to you, you’re making me a bit nervous. I know you’re probably just in the field in some ridiculously remote place or something but… three months is a long time, Peg. It’s a long to not hear from your girl who’s fighting for her life overseas. However, for now I’m going to try and pretend like I’m not worried, and you’re just on a particularly long mission. _

_ Ma’s been asking about you. Ha! How’s that for a change in subject? She knew that I had a friend who went overseas, and I… I’ve been staying with her for a bit now, thought it might be good to get away from the hotel for a while… But anyways, my family’s been noticing me writing constantly and receiving letters from the military, so naturally I told them a bit about you. Don’t freak out, I haven’t told them everything of course. But they’ve seen your picture now because they’re so damn nosey, and I’ve told them a bit about you. So now my mother wants to have you over for dinner. In case you needed another reason to come home. A big Italian dinner with my parents, and my brothers, all one thousand of them. I am sorry about them in advance, but they won’t take no for an answer. They won’t get off my back until you make an appearance either, so you better be okay.  _

#####  _ I mean it, Peggy. Please be okay. I miss you and I can’t even bring myself to think about what I would do… Nope, we’re not thinking like that today, I’ve decided. You don’t need that from me. _

_ I’ll write you everyday until I receive an answer, and you know it.  _

  
  


_ Missing and loving you,  _

_ Angie _

  
\---  
  


_ Peggy, _

_ I don’t know what to say anymore. I… It’s been 6 months, Peggy. And I am having a very hard time imagining what kind of mission would keep you from a base for so long. I know you’re not alone out there. You must be with the boys, and they have to keep you safe, they promised. So you have to be okay. You have to be.  _

_ I may be naïve. Perhaps these long term missions are common for someone of your status (which is… I realize I don’t actually know, although you mentioned being promoted some time ago). That’s what I’m choosing to believe. So long as I don’t hear otherwise, I will assume that you are fine, and just working very hard and are very busy.  _

_ Not much to update you on here, considering I just wrote you yesterday. Luanne from the hotel is pregnant, probably by the Billy fellow who you caught sneaking in that one time. I don’t have any more auditions coming up in the foreseeable future, theater has slowed down a bit around here with the war continuing. _

_ Stay safe, English, or you’ll have me to deal with,  _

_ Angie _

  
\---  
  


_ Peggy,  _

_ I love you. I wanted to wait until we saw each other in person again to say that but I don’t know if… I’m not sure when I’ll get that chance and I can’t wait anymore.  _

_ I keep going back to that last damn letter you sent me, a full year ago now. You talk about your “light graze” and how you were recovering okay, and had started to have a genuine friendship with the boys, and you sent those photos… Those photos that I keep with me every second of every day, so much so that they’re becoming soft with wear. You look so alive and young and although you called yourself “ragged,” you look beautiful. And I can tell, in those photos, that the war has taken a toll on you, because how could it not, but there are those few where you’re smiling because one of the boys made you laugh or something, I don’t know, and you just… You’re just you. And I’m holding onto that image of you because if I imagine where you might be now, or how alone, or scared you might be, I can’t leave my bed in the morning.  _

_ I love you. I love you, I love you. So much. I hope you know that, where ever you are.  _

_ Yours,  _

_ Angie _

\---

“Angie!” Her mother yelled from downstairs, and Angie could tell, just from her mother’s voice, that something was wrong, and a knot in her stomach told her she knew what it was. It had been a year and a half since Peggy had written her, two and a half years since she had left for the war. 

“Coming Ma!” Angie shouted back, her voice wavering and giving her dread away. She took one deep breath, her shoulders shuddering, and raced down the stairs. A man stood in her doorway, wearing his army greens and a serious expression. 

“You’re Angie Martinelli?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, sir,” tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

“Ma’am, you were listed as the emergency contact for Corporal Peggy Carter. I am here on the behalf of the United States military. It is my terrible duty to inform you that Corporal Carter is presumed missing in action --” and that was when Angie’s ears stopped working. The man’s voice came from seemingly miles away, and she pressed her hands into the floor, squeezing her eyes shut, as a sob escaped from her chest. She didn’t remember falling to the floor. Someone’s arms were around her, but it didn’t matter, because they weren’t Peggy’s arms, and they might never be Peggy’s arms, never again. 

“Wh-what happened?” she gasped, managing to glanced upwards toward the man who had brought her world shattering news. 

“I’m afraid that’s classified due to the nature of Corporal Carter’s work. I can tell you that it was a infiltration mission for her whole squad.”   
  


“Did anyone… did anyone make it back? James… James Barnes, Steve Rogers?”

“Unfortunately the entire squad has been labeled as missing in action.”

“But they could still be out there? Right? That’s what missing in action means, you’re not just allowed to give up on them, give up on her!” 

“I’m sorry miss, but there’s a war going on. We cannot risk losing any more assets than absolutely necessary. If they’re still not located when the war is over, of course, we will try our very best--”

And with that Angie stopped hearing anything again. Peggy,  _ her  _ Peggy is gone, she could be cold and alone and scared and injured, or she could… She could be dead. It’s possible that she’ll never kiss her again, she’ll never see her sitting at the counter at the Automat, she’ll never hear her gripe about the poor quality tea in the states, she’ll never experience her sharp wit, she’ll never introduce her to her family. Pain shot through Angie’s chest, and she was vaguely aware of the man saying something and her mother answering, before the door closed and they were left alone, sitting on the cold wood of her entrance hallway, as Angie sobbed and wheezed and tried to wrap her head around a world in which Peggy Carter did not exist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be mad at me! I promise everything will be mostly okay in the end for our girls. I crave validation, so any comments or kudos are much appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie grieves and learns some more from a friendly stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Thanksgiving night at 11:41 pm I am updating again. I'm really loving this story again, you guys, and finding joy in my writing which is refreshing. Things are still tough in this chapter, I'm not gonna lie, but things have to get worse before they get better. (and they will get worse. just a heads up.) Enjoy!

“Missing in action” is terribly vague. It’s horrific, because Angie couldn’t move on. Because Peggy Carter could still be out there somewhere, alive, and fighting to get home. But she could also be dead. She could have died within a day of leaving for that last mission. So, 6 months after the officer had showed up at Angie’s doorstep, Angie was still waiting. She was waiting for a woman who she hadn’t seen in 3 years, who she hadn’t heard from in 2. Part of her knew that even if Peggy’s fate was certain, she would always be waiting for her to come home. But that uncertainty was pure torture. 

She lived everyday on the edge, waiting for a letter or another officer with a message. And she spent every night dreaming of Peggy. Sometimes they were happy dreams, of the two of them cuddled warm and safe in the comfort of one of their Griffith flats. Peggy would whisper in her lovely accent, and then Angie would wake up grasping for the memory of her voice, trying to hear it as she went about her day.

But then there were the nightmares. The dreams where everything was dark, and Peggy was screaming Angie’s name, screaming for help, but forever out of reach. Angie would rarely see Peggy’s face, no matter the type of dream. She didn’t know why. In every one, she would beg and hope and pray for Peggy to just turn around, so she could see her face one more time. 

She didn’t go a day without one of Peggy’s pictures in her pockets. One time, she realized she had forgotten when she was nearly at work, and she sprinted all the way home, just to grab her most treasured possession from her dresser and slip it into her apron pocket. The thought of leaving the picture at home, of leaving  _ Peggy  _ at home, was unbearable and unforgivable. 

Some days she was angry. She was furious. She would see a soldier on the street, any soldier, it didn’t matter what they were doing or who they were, and she could feel the irrational anger boiling in the pit of her stomach. She was angry that those soldiers were alive, and that they were safe (or as safe as they could be with a war going on), when Peggy… Peggy was not safe, and quite possibly not alive. 

She walked through her days in a haze, barely registering interactions. She continued living at her parents house -- they wouldn’t let her leave even if she wanted to. She didn’t talk about Peggy. She couldn’t. Every once in a while her parents would attempt to broach the subject at the dinner table, but Angie refused. Peggy was indescribable. She couldn’t be summed up in a sentence, or singular story. And Angie couldn’t risk not doing her justice. So she didn’t talk about her. 

Sometimes she still wrote her letters. She wouldn’t send them. There was no where to send them to. Writing to Peggy as if she were still there, receiving the letters and responding, let Angie live in her fantasy for just a few minutes a day. Telling her about her shitty day, about her family’s antics, about any new customers, or just reminding Peggy how much she loved her. The idea that Peggy didn’t understand or didn’t know how much Angie cared about her made her nauseous. 

“Excuse me, ma’am?” a gruff voice sounded at the counter, and Angie’s head snapped up. She couldn’t help remembering that first day, when Peggy had done the same thing, sitting at that same spot, surprising Angie with her politeness and beauty. 

“So sorry, sir, how can I help you?” 

The man was large, but not in an intimidating way. He had an almost comical handle bar mustache, which, partnered with his bowler hat, made him look like some sort of caricature. 

“Ms. Martinelli?” 

“Um, yes?” Angie frowned. Her name tag only had her first name on it. So who…

“I’m sorry for bothering you at work, ma’am, but I… Do you have a minute?” 

“Can I ask what this is about?” Angie asked, pretending to be uninterested as she wiped down the perfectly clean counter. 

“Peggy Carter.”

“What?” Angie felt her knees start to grow weak, and she gripped the counter for support, “What did you just say?” 

“It’s about Peggy Carter, ma’am. I… I considered her a good friend, and if you have a moment, I’d love to--” 

“Yes, yes, of course, just give me one second, alright? Do you need a coffee or a water, or anything?” Angie interrupted, panicking, not wanting to lose this man’s attention, lest he leave. 

“I’m alright, thank you.”

“Alright, alright, you can wait in a booth, alright? I’ll be just a second, don’t go anywhere.” 

The man tipped his hat, and stood to go sit at a booth. Angie took a deep shaky breath before collecting some dirty dishes and bringing them to the back. “Hey, I’m going on my break, alright?” She yelled, not waiting for a response, as she rushed back out to the front, sliding into the seat across from the man. “Okay, I’m free for 15 minutes.” 

“Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Sergeant Timothy Dugan, but everyone calls me Dum Dum, or just Dugan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Martinelli,” he reached his hand out for a shake, his eyes kind. 

“You’re… Peggy mentioned you. In some of her letters, before… You were in her squad, weren’t you?” Angie stammered as she shoke her hand, struggling to compose herself. 

“That’s right, ma’am. Technically, I led the squad but I always considered Peggy my equal. She was… is extremely talented.”

Angie’s chest swelled with pride, “Yes. Yes she… Wait,  _ is _ ? Is she… Do you know… Can you tell me what happened?”

“I wish I could tell you every detail of that mission, but I’m afraid quite a bit of it is classified,” Angie moved to protest, but Dugan continued hurriedly, “However, I am going to tell you as much as I can,” he took a deep breath, seemingly readying himself for whatever he was about to say. 

“It was her first mission back after her injury. I’m sure she wrote you about that, yes?”

“Yes. She was annoyingly vague -- didn’t want to worry me -- but she was grazed by a bullet?”

“That’s right. I was with her on that mission. It… I knew I cared about her but seeing her in pain like that made me realize that this team had become my family. All of them had. And she was so damn brave, and even reckless sometimes. She got grazed while she was trying to talk an enemy soldier down. She almost had him to, it was my fault really. And the way that team, those boys rallied around her when they saw she was hurt… And even when she was in pain she was so clever and… I’m sorry,” Dugan wiped his eyes, looking down at the table. 

“No, it’s alright,” Angie sniffled, rubbing her own eyes, “Please… I want to know everything.” 

“She was out of the field for a while, and she really should’ve taken more time. All of us tried to tell her, Barnes, Rogers, everyone, but she wouldn’t listen of course… So we went on a mission together, her first one back in the field. It… It was an infiltration… Here’s where I can’t tell you very much. We split up into different teams. Carter, Barnes, and Rogers, and a few others, who were new to the team, were together. Those three were inseparable, worked together like a well oiled machine. They went one way, and I went the other with the rest of the team… And we weren’t supposed to meet up with them again until the next morning. And… they just never came back. It felt especially cold and dark that night… And then we shouting from some point off in the woods, gunshots, explosions. In the direction of where they… And we didn’t have any choice. We retreated. We ran,” Dugan paused, his large hands trembling. “A few days later they sent out some scouts… They found the bodies of a few… But Carter, Barnes, and Rogers, were just gone. No dog tags, nothing.”

Angie was fully crying now, not trying to hide it. “Do you think… Do you think they could be…” The unspoken word hung in the air between them.  _ Alive. _

“I think it’s possible. If they were taken hostage, it’s possible they’ve been kept alive, for questioning. Or… I like to think that they escaped, somehow. That they ran. And they’re hiding, somewhere in the woods. And I think… Because they have each other, they could survive for a very long time.”

At that, Angie broke down into huge, gasping sobs. Her shoulders shook, as she held her head in her hands. She was aware of some of the customers around them staring, and she didn’t blame them, but she also didn’t care. The idea that Peggy was alive, that idea that she had been pushing into the far corner of her mind lest she be disappointed, was filling every inch of her body with hope and fear. She didn’t know how long she had been crying before she felt a firm hand resting on her back, comforting, if slightly uncomfortable. If anything, it was comforting to know that this same hand had comforted Peggy once upon a time. 

“I’m sorry. Thank you… thank you for telling me. You don’t know how much…” Angie trailed off, not knowing how much Dugan knew of Peggy and her relationship. 

“I know,” Dugan said softly. She looked up, meeting his kind eyes, “I  _ know _ ,” he repeated, and the meaning was clear. He knew. 

“Hey, um, Martinelli,” a voice said from above her. Angie looked up, startled. “You can have the rest of the day off. It’s dead around here anyway,” her boss said, something akin to pity in his eyes. 

“Thanks,” Angie managed. He nodded uncomfortably, and hurried back to the kitchen.

“Listen,” Dugan said quietly, returning to his side of the booth, “I have a lot of stories. About Carter, and the squad. If you wanted… I would love to tell you them. We could walk around the park, or just sit here, whatever you’d like.”

Just as Angie thought she’d recovered, more tears welled up. “I’d love that. Really.”

And so, the pair spent the rest of the day wandering through New York, stopping at the occasional diner or coffee shop, with Dugan sharing every story he had of Peggy Carter, the good, the bad, and the in-between. Angie laughed at the stories of her love besting the boys in training, she cried when Dugan told her about all the times Peggy would talk about her. She grew deathly silent at the stories of Peggy getting injured, or being terribly brave to the point of being almost self sacrificial. He told her about meeting Peggy for the first time and being scared shitless. He also told her about how she would take long walks around camp in the middle of the night when the images of the war filled her mind and kept her from sleep. How he would wake up on occasion and join her, always finding her sitting on the edge of camp, smoking, staring up at the sky. Angie could tell that the war had changed her, but she was also so undeniably  _ Peggy.  _

The pair cried all day, and as the sun set behind the skyscrapers of New York City, and they arrived at the door of Angie’s parents’ house, they shared a long and firm hug. “Dugan… I can’t begin to explain what today has meant to me. Thank you. Thank you, so, so much,” Angie whispered through her tears. 

Dugan nodded, wiping tears from his eyes, “It was my pleasure, ma’am.”

“Just Angie, please.”

“Angie. It was my pleasure,” he held out his hand, shaking firmly and solemnly. “I promise you, I will expend all my energy and every resource I have access to, to find them. I swear it on my life. We  _ will  _ find them. And you will be the first to know when we do.” 

And then Angie watched him walk down the sidewalk, leaving behind every last story of Peggy he had, and the hope he had renewed in Angie. 

\----

_ My dearest Angie,  _

_ I don’t know why I’m writing this. God knows it will never reach you… I suppose it keeps me sane. Relatively anyway. I don’t think any of us are quite ‘sane’ anymore. I’m afraid I’m rather different from when you last saw me, love. I’m not sure how long it’s been since I left for my mission, but I’m guessing almost one and a half years. That’s a long time to be without you. It’s a long time to survive.  _

_ It’s getting cold again. We’re afraid to light fires for fear of being discovered. We’ve had some rather close calls. While being out here, alone, and without resources is terrible, whatever the Germans would do to us would be far worse.  _

_ That being said, I’m… I’m not sure how much longer we can make. We got lucky last winter really. I’m able to walk less and less every day. James says he’s fine but I can tell he’s fading. Steve… Well, he’s always been small and a bit asthmatic. And now, without proper food… My clothes that once fit me perfectly are at least four size too big now. We were lucky that James had a med kit in his pack when we left. That’s the only reason we’ve more or less avoided infection. I won’t go into the details of our injuries and afflictions. That’s not helpful to anyone, least of all me.  _

_ I think of you every day. I am so sorry for leaving you. I am so sorry for causing you pain. I hope you are able to move on with your life, darling, if I don’t make it back to you. You don’t have to wait for me -- I would never ask that of you. Just know, that I think of you every day. When all hope is lost and I am near giving up, I just imagine your voice, scolding me for even thinking that way. I love you endlessly. I never got to say that to you in person, and that will forever be my biggest regret. But I will say it here, and imagine that you can hear me. I love you. I love you. I love you.  _

_ If I don’t return to you, and this letter somehow does, I hope this gives you some measure of comfort. I am blessed to have known you, darling, even if we didn’t get enough time together. Thank you for making me happier that I’ve ever been in my entire life. I hope you live a long and joyful life. Do not worry for me. I will die happy, knowing that I am yours forever.  _

_ Peggy  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I crave validation so any comments/kudos are always appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next one! I'm doing pretty good with updates right now, y'all should be proud. Get ready for some feels here, both happy and sad. Hope everyone's doing alright.

They had done it. They had won. The war was over. 

The war was over and Angie was waiting. Still waiting. 

Celebrations surrounded her. Couples reunited on the streets, embracing dramatically, kissing and crying. Bells chimed, flags waved, and the sun shone on the world once again. 

And she was waiting. She had received the occasional letter from Dugan since they met, but there was never any news. Now, with the war ended, and prisoners of war being released and rescued across Europe, some hope was regained. If Peggy was out there, she would be found. And with that hope came fear. Because if Peggy wasn’t found, that was that. It was over. And the hope would be lost forever. And if she  _ was  _ found, there was no telling what state she would be in. 

So she waited. And then one day, something happened. 

When she opened the door and saw a man in a green uniform standing there, she braced herself for the worst. Last time this had happened, her world had collapsed. 

“Um, hi,” Angie said awkwardly, grasping her hands tightly behind her back, nails digging into soft palms. 

“Ms. Martinelli?”

“That’s me.”

“You’re the emergency contact for Corporal Peggy Carter?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well, Ms. Martinelli, it seems that Corporal Carter has been found.”

Angie’s hand flew out to support herself on the door frame, “What?” 

“She’s been found, alongside her fellow soldiers, James Barnes, and Steven Rogers. They’re alive.”

“I-- what?” she gasped in air, trying desperately to fill her lungs. 

“They’re all alive, and currently at a hospital in Europe, I’m afraid I can’t specify where. Once they have stabilized, they will be flown back to the city.”   
  


“Are they-- is she-- how are…” she swallowed, hard. “How bad is it?” 

“I don’t know the specifics, but I am afraid their injuries are severe. You will have to talk to their commanding officers and doctors once they come back to the States.”

“How--How long… How long do you think it will be? Until they get back? Is she conscious? Can I-- Can I write?” 

“You are welcome to write, but I can’t tell you if she’ll be in any state to read the letters, or if she’ll even be conscious. I don’t know how long it will be, but my guess would be another two months or so.”

  
  
Angie swallowed back a sob at that. Two months seemed an eternity to wait now that she knew Peggy was a live. At the same time, after waiting four years, and three without any contact at all, it couldn’t be too hard. “Okay. Will I… Will I receive a letter when she’s home?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

  
  
“Okay. Alright, god, I just can’t believe this is happening. Thank you so much, mister, I can’t even explain what this means…” Angie wiped at her eyes harshly, offering a weak smile. 

“Of course, ma’am. Now, I’m must go. I wish you the best, ma’am.”

Angie whispered another small, “Thank you,” as he left. “Mamma?” she yelled in the direction of the kitchen. “Papa?”

“What is it amore?” Angie’s mom asked as Angie stepped into the kitchen. Her brow immediately furrowed in concern at the look on Angie’s face, and she shot to her feet, holding Angie’s arms. “Oh, Angie. Is it--”

“She’s alive, Mamma. Papa. She… They found her. She’s alive. She’s alive,” was the last thing Angie gasped out, with a little hysteric laugh, before she collapsed in a mess of tears, holding onto her parents for dear life.

\---

She hadn’t anticipated being so nervous. She had anticipated the excitement and the joy and the tears, but she hadn’t expected the gut wrenching anxiousness that overcame her as she stood outside the large communal hospital room that held dozens of wounded soldiers, one of them being Peggy Carter. And yet here she was. Completely and utterly terrified. 

“Okay, ma’am. You can come on in,” the nurse said. “She’s been in and out of consciousness today, and she’s unconscious right now, but chances are she’ll wake up while you’re here. She’s been relatively lucid when she’s awake, if a bit confused. I assume her commanding officer told you what they believe to have happened?”

“Yes.” They had told her. They had told her that Peggy, James, and Steve had managed to survive for one and a half years on their own in the relative wilderness, stealing from houses and camps as they came across them, all the while dealing with their injuries from the ambush on the mission. Eventually, however, things took a turn for the worse. The trio was discovered by enemy soldiers and taken captive for questioning and torture until the war was won, and they were freed. They had not, however, told her the extent of Peggy’s injuries. 

“As you know, Corporal Carter was in Europe recovering for a full two months, so her injuries have had time to heal. She’s through the worst of it. I can give you a more detailed run down later. The most critical injuries include some major trauma and shrapnel wounds to her right leg, quite a few lacerations on her back and abdomen, as well as a severe laceration and infection in the right eye. If she does wake up while you’re here, I’d recommend giving her a bit of space. She may not know where she is right away,” the nurse rattled off as they walked past the numerous beds of soldiers, in varying states of consciousness. 

“Okay,” was all Angie could whisper, her eyes scanning the beds ahead of them. A horrible voice in the back of her head whispered,  _ “What if you don’t recognize her.” _

But the nurse hadn’t even finished her “here we are,” when Angie took off running. Because there she was. Lying in the very last bed in the row, covered in bandages, frail, and deathly pale, was Peggy. Angie came to a screeching halt at her bedside, immediately kneeling down next to her, gently grasping her calloused hand. She desperately blinked away the tears that were blurring her view of Peggy. 

“Hey, English,” Angie murmured, voice wavering and wet. “I’ve missed you,” she reached out her free hand, to ever so gently brush hair from her face, “I’ve missed you so much.” She lifted Peggy’s hand to her lips slowly, placing a small, light kiss, full of all the love in the world. 

As she took a seat in the chair the nurse had provided for her, never once letting go of Peggy’s hand, she took a better look at her love. Peggy’s right eye was bandaged entirely, her hair was long and dry, her cheeks sunken. She looked like she had been through hell. But she was here. And she was breathing. And that was enough.

Angie didn’t know how long she sat there, whispering and crying, before the hand in hers twitched. Angie jumped, startled, before reluctantly letting go of Peggy’s hand, remembering what the nurse had told her about giving her space. 

When Peggy’s visible eye opened, Angie could barely contain her gasp. Her beautiful brown eyes were just as Angie remembered. “Hey there, English. You certainly took your time getting back to me,” she whispered. 

Peggy’s eyebrows scrunched together as she looked around. When her gaze landed on Angie, her eye filled with tears and something else… Confusion? No… something between fear and sorrow. 

“Peggy? You here with me?” Angie forced her voice to remain calm and quiet. 

“Angie?” Peggy’s voice, gravely and hoarse whispered, and it took all of Angie’s self control to not burst into tears again. “Is this… Are you really here?” 

“Yes. Yes, hon, I’m right here.”

Tears were streaming down Peggy’s face now, her breaths coming in deep gasps, “I didn’t think… I didn’t think I would ever see you again, darling,” and then she was reaching for Angie’s hand, and when they touched Angie started crying again. 

“I know. I know. But look. We’re here. We’re together. I…” Angie cleared her throat as it cracked, “I missed you.”

Peggy managed a weary smile, “I missed you too. I’m so… so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You came back to me, didn’t you? Just like you promised me. Just… Just like you promised,” Angie grinned through her tears, pressing a firm kiss on the back of Peggy’s hand, rubbing her thumb in gentle circles over her knuckles. 

“I was always coming home to you. Only you,” Peggy murmured.

“Well, you’re never getting rid of me again. I mean it. I’m here to stay, whether you like it or not, English.”

“Well, look who’s awake!” the nurse’s cheery voice called. “How are we feeling Corporal Carter?”

Peggy looked up, startled, as though she hadn’t quite realized where they were. “I’m fine,” she croaked. 

“Yeah?” the nurse hummed, clearly not buying it, “How’s the leg, still that dull ache? Any sharp pain?” Peggy gave a miniscule shake of her head. “And what about the eye?”

“Still burning.”

“Worse, or the same?”

“The same.”

“Okay, good. Any new or worsening pain anywhere else?”

“No.”

“And can you tell me where you are? And what year it is?”   
  


Peggy looked a bit annoyed, “I’m in a New York City hospital. It’s 1945.”

“And what’s your friend’s name?”

Peggy’s gaze met Angie’s, softening immediatly. “Angie. Angie Martinelli.”

“Very good,” the nurse turned to Angie, “I just like to check for any blanks in memory, as well as lucidness. It’s a good technique to keep her grounded as well. Remind her of where she is.” Angie nodded quickly, never taking her eyes off Peggy, who looked to be fading fast. “I’ll leave you two now. Ma’am, you’re welcome to stay until the evening, but then we will have to ask you to leave.” 

As the nurse hurried away, Angie scooted her chair closer to Peggy’s bedside. “Is it bad? The pain, I mean. You can tell me, it’s alright.”

“It’s better, now that you’re here,” Peggy dodged the question with a small smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Angie blushed, shaking her head, “That was very smooth, but not quite an answer.”

“It used to be worse,” Peggy whispered, looking distant in a way that made Angie uneasy. 

_ “I can’t even imagine what you went through. I’m so so sorry that this happened to you it’s so fucking unfair. I want to know what happened but I’m also scared that once I know I could never live with myself. I love you so so much and I don’t know how to help you and that terrifies me,”  _ was what Angie wanted to say. But she couldn’t find the words, so instead she just said, “I’m so sorry, Peg.”

Peggy didn’t respond, and Angie could tell she was no longer in the hospital with her, but rather somewhere else, far, far away. “It’s okay, English. You can sleep. I’ll be here until it gets dark,” she murmured, offering a small smile as Peggy drifted off into sleep. 

Angie sat, studying, trying to memorize every detail, every small cut, every bandage, every freckle, so when she went home at night she could picture Peggy’s face and convince herself that all this had been real. She had sat for a couple hours, and had nearly nodded off herself when another voice startled her. 

“Excuse me?” Angie whipped around at the sound of a soft, male voice behind her. A young man with haunted blue eyes and a slight figure stood there. His face was gaunt, and it was clear that the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline had once been soft. “Ms. Martinelli?”

Suddenly all the descriptions and photos in Peggy’s letters hit her like a tidal wave. “Steve Rogers? Or, sorry, Private Rogers? I… I remember you from the letters and…” 

A small grin split across his delicate features, “Steve is just fine, ma’am. And you’re Angie. I’ve heard a whole lot about you.”

“Well I’ve heard about you as well, Steve Rogers,” Angie couldn’t help but smile with him as she stood, finding his easy going manner charming and contagious. “Thank you. For keeping her safe.”

Steve’s smile immediately crumbled and his eyes grew soft. “Can I… This is strange, but I feel like I already know you, can I, would it be alright if I hugged you?” he stammered, his ears tinging red. 

Angie didn’t answer, she just stepped forward, and embraced him gently, mindful of any hidden injuries he was sporting. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling an immense swell of gratitude towards this kind, nervous man. When they stepped apart, Angie watched Steve’s gaze shift to the bed behind her, and she took a small step back, allowing him to take the seat at Peggy’s bedside. 

“I got let off the easiest, you know,” he said, his voice nearly emotionless, his eyes never leaving Peggy. “Bucky and Peggy got much worse. I don’t know why. They are much better soldiers than me, and sometimes I wish…” the implications of the unsaid words froze in the air between them. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Angie snapped, surprising both herself and Steve. “I’m sure there’s nothing more you could have done. And you would’ve been no use to them dead.” Steve turned to face her again, earnest and open in all his thoughtfulness. He looked doubtful, but he gave her a small nod. “I hope it’s alright if I ask… Is Private Barnes…” 

“Yes. He’s alive. They’ve put him in the other room,” he said, sounding bitter at even the thought of someone trying to separate the three of them. “He’s doing well. As well as he could be. He’s asleep right now, otherwise he’d be in here with me. We’re supposed to be able to leave tomorrow, both of us,” he said, his voice touched with guilt. 

“She won’t like that, will she? Being separated from you two for the first time in…” 

“No. She won’t like that at all. None of us will. Buck and I are gonna get an apartment together. We were thinking, if Peg wants to, and if you, if  _ you  _ want to, it’s gonna be a two bedroom. We thought it might be easier for the three of us to be together, and I can’t imagine Peggy wanting to go anywhere without you,” Steve rattled off, all in one breath.

Angie’s brain struggled to catch up with everything the soldier was implying. A flat, with the four of them… And two bedrooms. Oh.  _ Oh _ . Peggy had never outright said it in her letters, but it made sense. Bucky and Steve were like Angie and Peggy. And they wanted to share an apartment with her and Peggy. Her and Peggy, as one unit, as a  _ couple _ . The thought was almost enough to return a smile to her face. Because this was going to be hard. She knew that this would be very, very hard, for everyone. But the idea of facing the challenge as a group rather than individuals lightened the load on her shoulders considerably. 

“Yes,” she blurted, realizing she had left Steve hanging for a bit too long, “If Peggy wants that I think that’d be really, really good.” 

A sudden movement from the bed next to them grabbed their attention. Peggy’s one visible eye was wild with fear, her hands grasping the sheets in tight balls, gasping for air as she looked around frantically. 

“Hey, Peggy, hey, you’re fine. We’re fine. Remember? We got out,” Steve said, almost automatically, as if he had done so a hundred times before.  _ Maybe he had _ , Angie thought. “We’re here, we’re in the hospital, Angie’s here, I’m here, Bucky’s here. You can breath. We’re safe.” Slowly, Peggy’s hands unclenched, and her body relaxed, taking a deep, long breath. “Take your time, Peg. We’ll still be here.”

Peggy gave a small nod, before squeezing her eye shut. “I’m sorry,” she forced out between gritted teeth, her forehead crinkled, sweat shining on her brow. 

Angie slid into the vacant seat at the otherside of the bed. “Hey there,” she said, “Is it alright if I hold your hand?” Peggy gave a small nod, extending a hand slightly, which Angie took gladly. “What hurts?”

“Eye twinges a bit.”

“Right,” Angie said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “It’s okay to hurt, Peg. You’re allowed to feel things.”

Peggy opened her watery eye to meet Angie’s, “It does, Angie. It hurts. It hurts a lot,” she groaned, shifting slightly. 

“I know, hon. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Angie barely noticed the way Steve hovered nervously on the other side of the bed, her focus remaining on Peggy. She took her hand slowly and cautiously. Peggy immediately latched on, squeezing firmly. “Do you remember that old geezer that used to come into the Automat every once in a while? Fat, red faced, hated everything I served ‘em, didn’t matter what.” 

Peggy didn’t answer, but Angie thought she could see the muscles of her face relax slightly which she took as a sign to continue. “Well, he kept coming in, ordering a black coffee, and pie, always the one we had just happened to run out of. He would complain that the coffee was too hot, or too cold, or too strong, it was never good enough. I would always be polite, and go get him a fresh cup or plate, or whatever, didn’t want to deal with him anymore than I had too, you know?”

Steve had taken a seat now, anxiously playing with his hands in his lap. 

“But one day, he gave me a slap as I walked away,” Peggy’s good eye was open now, blearily looking at the ceiling, “Now, you know that isn’t exactly uncommon, but I had had a real shit today, and couldn’t handle it. So, I whipped around real fast, and yelled something like, ‘What the hell is your problem!’” What Angie didn’t say was that her day had been bad because it was the same week Peggy had been pronounced MIA. 

Peggy turned slightly to look at Angie, surprise clear in her expression. 

“I know! Completely crazy, totally could’ve gotten me canned. But I did it anyways, I don’t know what I was thinking. The old coot was so surprised and taken aback that he didn’t even yell back! He just sort of blubbered and stammered, and now the whole diner was looking over at him, and apparently he hadn’t been expecting that sort of attention, so he just stood up, and stormed out the door! I couldn’t believe I didn’t get in trouble. I guess he just wasn’t used to women standin’ up for themselves,” Angie grinned. “It’s a silly story, I know, not really that interesting--”

“Angie, stop,” Peggy murmured. “I want to hear every story you have, darling. Thank you.”

“Steve?” she mumbled, as if she was seeing him for the first time. “Is Bucky okay?”

“He’s fine, Peg. I just came to keep you company,” Steve said gently. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, shifting uncomfortably in her bed. Angie wanted nothing more than to cuddle up next to her in that tiny hospital bed, wrap her arms around her, and keep her safe from all the demons in her head.  _ Later,  _ she thought to herself.  _ Not now.  _

“Peggy…” Steve started nervously, “Bucky and I are gonna be allowed to leave the hospital tomorrow. And we don’t… We’re not trying to leave you. If I had it my way, we would all stay here together until we were all ready to leave. But they’re not giving us the choice. So, Bucky and I were thinking, and I just talked to Angie, but we’re gonna get an apartment downtown together, and it has two bedrooms, so we thought maybe you and Angie might want to, you know not permanently if you don’t want, but we were--”

“He’s asking if we want to live with them, English,” Angie cut Steve off, laughing at his rambling. 

“Oh,” Peggy said softly, “ _ Oh _ . I… Angie…” she looked to Angie, and Angie’s heart sank. She didn’t want to live with her. Peggy didn’t want to live with her. She probably thought it was too soon, or maybe she didn’t have feelings for her anymore after all their time apart. 

“It’s okay, Peggy. I understand. It’s been a long time, so it’s okay if you don’t want--” 

“Angie, it’s not that,” Peggy interrupted. She gave Steve a meaningful glance, and he nodded, stepping away to give them some space. “I… I just… I’m different now. Different from how I used to be. And I don’t… I can’t give you everything that you deserve. So, maybe it’s not the best idea. Maybe we shouldn’t…” she blinked away the tears that had so obviously formed in her eye. 

“Peggy, you’re being ridiculous,” Angie started, taking a deep breath, fighting the tendril of rage that had materialized in her stomach. “ I have been writing, and writing, and writing, for your sake, but also for mine. I wrote you all those letters so I didn’t lose my mind waiting for you. When that first soldier came to my door and told me you were missing, I… I thought you were dead, Peggy. I thought you were dead for a year and a half. I tried so, so hard to not lose hope in you, but it was really,  _ really _ , hard. So now that you’re here, and I’m here, and I have you again, I am not going to let you go. As long as you’ll have me, I’m yours. You’re not going to scare me away.” 

When Angie was finished there was a tense silence between the two of them, as Peggy seemed to process what Angie had just said. Slowly, she nodded, blinking. Then, she squeezed her hand. And that was enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Validation and criticism always welcome. Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change of scenery, some heart to hearts, and some angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I really should be studying for my midterms or doing my homework but instead I wrote this chapter. So please enjoy! I think it's a good one, although it is pretty angsty, so beware.

“We’re almost there, hon. Just a couple more steps,” Angie coaxed, shoulder muscles straining under Peggy’s weight. Peggy didn’t say anything, frustration clouding her mind, gritting her teeth and wiping sweat from her brow, before they continued up the stairs.  _ Why did the apartment have to be on the third floor?  _ she thought bitterly. They had been climbing the stairs for a good 20 minutes now, taking one step at a time, with one of Peggy’s arms slung over Angie’s shoulder, the other clutching her new wooden crutch. 

“Alright, there we go,” Angie coaxed as they reached the final landing. Peggy stumbled, nearly falling to the ground, but caught herself on the wall, feeling Angie’s hands scramble to steady her. Angie giving a flustered little laugh of relief, and Peggy sagged heavily against the wall, breathing labored. “You did it, English. I’m proud of you.” Peggy turned away slightly, her arms wrapped tight around her abdomen as pain flared in her leg. Proud. Angie was proud of her for climbing a flight of stairs. That’s how weak she had become. “Hey. Peggy. Look at me,” Angie said, brushing some sweaty fly away hairs from Peggy’s face. 

Peggy finally looked up to Angie, expression solemn and face flushed pink. “Can we just… can we just get inside?” she murmured. 

Angie smiled, giving Peggy’s arm a little squeeze, “Of course.” 

The apartment was nice enough. It was small, and ordinary, but cozy. Peggy struggled to clear the fog from her mind, feeling Angie watching her. Her tense muscles relaxed slightly as she caught a glimpse of Steve and Bucky sitting at the kitchen table, the ever present paranoia in the back of her mind lessening minutely. 

“Hey. You made it,” Steve smiled, hurrying over, a slight hobble in his step, to relieve Angie of Peggy’s bag, Angie murmuring her thanks. Angie, along with two of her cousins had already moved all of Peggy’s things from her old apartment. This bag had her belongings from when they were discovered. She hadn’t looked inside it yet, and wasn’t sure if she ever would. 

“Whatdya think, Peg? To the couch? Or to the bedroom?” Angie asked. Peggy raised her eyebrows, Bucky snorted loudly from his chair by the window as Steve frozen mid-step. “No! No no no, not like that obviously, I just meant that you probably want to rest, so you could either lie down on the bed or on the couch, obviously you’re still recovering and--”

“Angie. I understand,” Peggy interrupted, putting Angie out of her misery. “The couch is fine.” Angie moved to help her to the couch but Peggy cut her off, “I can manage,” she said, a bit shortly. She had spent four years fighting in a war, she could handle a few feet to the couch. Nevertheless, as she shuffled along, her head, behind her injured eye, throbbed painfully. 

Her left eye had been so horribly infected when she was rescued, that the doctors had no choice remove it, leaving her entirely blind on that side. So now, a small patch covered the socket where an eye had once sat, and soon she would have a prosthetic glass eye. The patch wasn’t strictly necessary, but Peggy detested knowing that when people looked at her they would immediately notice the scarring and the way her eyelid sort of folded in on itself with nothing to hold it open. Even more, she couldn’t handle the idea of Angie seeing her like that, and what she must think of her. The empty eye socket burned and ached and sent sharp shooting pains through her head daily, reminding her of what was missing. 

As she reached the couch, she misjudged the distance she had left (a side effect of the loss of her eye), causing her to stumble, and let herself fall onto the couch, groaning a bit as she landed. In an instant, Angie was by her side again, hovering nervously next to her. “You alright, English?”

The nickname softened Peggy a bit. It always did. “I’m fine,” she said, unable to find the words to say anything else. Angie didn’t believe her, Peggy could tell. Angie didn’t believe any of her lies, and sometimes she called her out on them, but sometimes she let them slide. Peggy was grateful that today she chose the latter. 

“Ok. Ok. Do you want to lay down? I can get you a book, I’m going to unpack the rest of your things.” Peggy nodded numbly as Angie arranged a pillow on the couch to prop her leg up, helping Peggy swing her legs up and lay back. “Are you cold? Do you need a blanket?” Peggy just nodded again, her eye scanning the room again to catch sight of Bucky and Steve who were now sitting at the kitchen table eating. Her gaze then traveled over to the door, making a mental note of how long it would take her to get from her position to the exit or to the window near the fire escape if need be. They were three floors up, so the descent would be difficult but not-- 

  
“Here we are,” Angie hummed, draping the wool blanket gently over Peggy, and handing her a book. Peggy thought she murmured a “thank you,” under her breath but she wasn’t sure. Angie said something about going into their room to unpack her things and then she was gone. Briefly, Peggy pondered the fact that they were sharing a room. She never would’ve thought that she would even  _ see  _ Angie again, let alone move in with her.

Steve interrupted her thoughts by sitting down in the armchair next to her, holding his sketchbook, “Surreal, isn’t it? Being here… Being safe…” 

Bucky walked over slowly, a cane clutched in his right hand. Peggy lost herself again as she stared at the empty space where Bucky’s arm had once been, remembering that day, the smell of blood pooling on the damp floor, the screams that had kept her awake all night when there was nothing her words could do to fix the damage. “...acting like it never happened at all, it’s bloody infuriating,” Bucky was suddenly sitting with them, though Peggy didn’t remember seeing him sit down. “...it’s warm enough, I want to go walking or to a park. Somewhere not inside…” Somehow she kept missing the starts and ends of sentences, her brain struggling to keep up. “---Peggy?”

“Hmm?” her head snapped up to see Bucky waiting expectantly. 

“I asked if you would mind if I turned on the radio,” Bucky repeated, seemingly not minding her slowness. 

“Oh, go ahead,” Peggy responded absently, laying her head back down on her pillow. She could feel Steve watching her from his seat, but she didn’t acknowledge him, not wanting his pity or concern, however well meaning it was. The radio crackled to life, making her jump slightly, visions of dark woods and armed men flashing before her eyes. Then slow and soft jazz music filled the apartment, and Peggy closed her eye, letting the music remind her that she was back in the city, safe, and far from the woods and cell that haunt her mind. She didn’t know how long she lay like that, drifting between sleep and reality, but Steve’s voice brought her back to the surface. 

“Peg, Angie’s been gone for a long time…”

“What?” Peggy asked, not remembering where Angie had gone in the first place. She had said something about packing, or maybe unpacking… 

“She’s in your room, Peggy. Maybe go check in her?” he paused, hesitantly, “She was gonna go through your stuff…” 

This got Peggy’s attention. The picture of Angie sorting through the same clothes she had suffered in for four years was uncomfortable, like two worlds colliding painfully. She swung her legs over the side of the couch, pausing for a moment as her head spun and the scar tissue on her stomach tugged and pinched, before grabbing her crutch and standing. She moved slowly and awkwardly towards the bedroom door,  _ their  _ bedroom door, loathing every ache that slowed her down. 

Angie was sat on the bed,  _ their  _ bed, head bowed, clutching something in her hands. Peggy’s bag sat next to her, still seemingly full of her things. “Angie?” Peggy asked hesitantly, not wanting to startle her, but failing. Angie jumped visibly, hiding whatever she was holding behind her back. 

“English, you startled me! I’m sorry, I got distracted, do you need something? Something to eat, or maybe a new book, or--”

“I’m okay, darling,” the term of endearment slipping out naturally, “I just wanted to see if you were okay and if I can help with anything,” she took a seat next to Angie on the bed, stretching her leg out in front of her and rubbing it absently. 

“I’m okay,” Angie whispered, looking down. 

“Angie…”   
  


“I am! I’m fine. I’m not the one who… who almost…” Peggy placed a shaky hand on Angie’s shoulder, and watched her facade crumble as she started to cry. 

Peggy didn’t say anything, she just wrapped her in her arms and let Angie lean against her chest, her tears wetting her shirt and her weight straining her injuries. Peggy didn’t mind. She would gladly endure a little extra pain if it meant Angie was comforted. This was the closest they had been since reunited, she realized, not counting practical touches, like when walking. It felt natural, like Peggy’s body was made to hold Angie’s. “God, I’m sorry,” Angie said, pulling away quickly, and Peggy missed her closeness immediately. She tried to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming, “I shouldn’t be crying, you’re the one that almost… Almost died, God, and you were so brave and goddamn noble, but I could’ve never moved on Peggy, never, I don’t say that to make you feel guilty, but--”

“Angie, what…” Peggy wracked her brain for something that could have happened between Angie leaving the room and now, but came up empty.

“I found your letter, Peggy. I didn’t mean to snoop, but I was putting stuff away, and I found it, and saw my name, and…” she pulled the letter out from behind her. It was crumpled and stained and difficult to read but instantly Peggy remembered. She remembered sitting against a tree in the freezing cold weather, thinking this would be the last thing she ever wrote as her fingers became too numb to feel and her lips turned blue. She remembered picturing Angie, knowing that if she was the last thing she ever thought of, that would be enough for her. And then, the next day, when everything changed. When they were no longer on their own in the wilderness, but someplace far, far worse, where it smelled of death.

“Peggy? Peggy, I’m so sorry, I know you probably hate me for bringing this up, and I totally understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” Angie rambled, bringing Peggy back into the moment. 

“No, no, Angie, it’s alright. It’s okay. I just…” Peggy ran her fingers through her long, unkempt hair. She would have never have dreamt of being seen without her hair perfectly curled and styled before the war, but that was then. Now, she had other things to worry about. “You just surprised me, that’s all. I had forgotten…”

“I’m sorry I read it. I’m sorry if you weren’t ready, or if you never wanted me to see it at all.”

Peggy grabbed Angie’s hand, surprising both of them. “I’m glad you read it,” she took a deep breath, “I don’t know how to tell you what happened out there. I don’t remember a lot of it, but other things I remember so well and so vividly, that when I think about it, it’s like I’m right back… I can’t explain what I was feeling when we were wandering through those woods for a year and a half or after, when…” her body shuddered without her permission, and she was unable to look Angie in the eyes for fear of what she would see in them. “When we were with  _ them _ . So, I suppose that letter helps a little. Helps you understand a little of what I was thinking. And that I was still thinking of you. Always.” Angie was crying again when Peggy finally managed to look up at her, and Peggy realized that she was to. 

“I wrote to you,” Angie whispered the words so quietly that they barely reached Peggy’s ears. “After I hadn’t heard from you in a long time, and after… After they told me you were missing. I stopped sending them after that but I never stopped writing. Even when they told me you were found, before you were flown home. The last one I wrote…” Angie swallowed hard as her voice cracked, “The last one I wrote was the day before I saw you again. I just couldn’t stand the idea of you being out there, alone, and… I guess now I know you weren’t ever alone.”

Peggy nodded. She wasn’t ready to tell Angie what had happened when they were prisoners. How the three of them were seperated and how she  _ was  _ alone, for a long, long time. So instead, she just wrapped Angie up in the best embrace she could manage, “Tell me if it hurts,” Angie murmured nervously, and Peggy nodded, although she knew that she wouldn’t end this moment for the anything in the world. She tucked her head into Angie’s shoulder, inhaling deep, not finding the scent of gunpowder, blood, or dirt, but of lavendar perfume and shampoo. Angie’s hands were firm but gentle on her back, grounding her to this moment, a moment she didn’t want to miss. 

Angie pulled away slightly and Peggy felt familiar panic bubble in her chest and it must have shown in her face because Angie murmured, “I’m not going anywhere, English. Don’t worry.” There foreheads met softly, and their hands intertwined, Angie’s soft ones with Peggy’s calloused dry ones. Slowly and cautiously, Peggy lifted her hand to Angie’s cheek, rubbing a hesitant thumb over her cheek bone. Angie’s green eyes filled with tears, as she covered Peggy’s hand with her own. “Is it okay… I don’t want to ruin this, English, but is it okay if--” she was cut off by Peggy’s lips against hers, gentle and sweet. Angie smiled against her lips, letting a little giggle escape, her breath hot on Peggy’s cheek. Peggy felt Angie’s hand on the back of her neck, and then around her waist, pulling her in for more, and Peggy winced slightly as her hand pressed against a still healing wound, but just leaned in further to the kiss. 

“Wait. Peggy… Peggy, hold on,” Angie murmured, pushing away. 

“What...What’s wrong, is something wrong?” Peggy frowned. 

“No, no, nothing’s wrong, that was lovely… I’ve been waiting for that for so, so long. But you’re in pain, I can tell, I don’t want to hurt you,” Angie explained, running her hands through Peggy’s hair gently. 

“No, you won’t, you won’t hurt me, you could never hurt me, I’m fine,” Peggy moved to pull Angie back in, but stopped at the searing pain in her side. 

“Right, sure, you’re fine. Lie down, English, let me see,” Angie stood, grabbing ointment from the dresser. Peggy didn’t move. “Peggy, please. Let me help.”

“It’s not pretty, Angie. You haven’t seen--” 

“I don’t care if it’s pretty, Peggy. It won’t be easy for me to look at, not because it’s ugly, but because I hate to see you in pain. Now  _ please _ .”

Peggy gave a miniscule nod, which Angie took as permission to help her take her shirt off, slowly pulling it over her head, leaving her in only her simple black bra. “Ok,” Angie whispered, “you can lay down.” Peggy did as she was told, and heard Angie let out a tiny gasp as she saw them. “Them” being the thick, ugly gashes that littered her abdomen and her back and the few burns that mottled and distorted her skin. Peggy kept her eye stubbornly trained on the ceiling, blinking furiously to make the tears disappear. 

“ _ Peggy, _ ” Angie gasped, and Peggy could tell she was crying without even looking at her.  _ And she hasn’t even seen the worst of it _ , Peggy reminded herself. Her leg, her eye, her back, were all arguably worse than what Angie was seeing now. And Angie would have to see them eventually, probably sooner rather than later. The next time Peggy wanted to bathe, or when she changed tonight for bed Angie would see the whole picture and then what? How could she ever look at Peggy the same again. “I’m so, so sorry this happened to you,” Angie murmured. Peggy couldn’t bring herself to respond, the tears starting to spill over now. “I wish I could turn back time, and… I don’t know. Do  _ something _ . Anything.”

Peggy bit back the snarky comments on the tip of her tongue, about how that obviously wasn’t a possibility, and how Angie probably couldn’t have done anything anyways, because she knew that Angie didn’t need that. The bitterness that plagued her mind was hers to deal with, and hers alone. 

“Can I… Is it okay if I put the ointment on them? You can do it yourself if you don’t want me to touch--” 

“It’s okay. You can do it,” the truth was that Peggy could barely bear to look at them herself. Touching the scar tissue repulsed her, the skin that had once been smooth and white didn’t feel like her own now that it was red and purple and bumpy to the touch. 

Peggy’s breath hitched as Angie’s small hands lightly traced the largest wound with the cold cream, the one that stretched from her upper chest, down past her ribcage. That one had been deep, and electric pain shot through Peggy’s chest. Instantly the hands retracted, “I’m so sorry, did that hurt? If it hurts, I’ll stop.”

Peggy took a deep breath, squeezing her eye shut. “It hurts. But it’s okay.” 

“Tell me if it’s too much. I’m serious, Peggy. You don’t have to be all tough. It’s just you and me,” Angie murmured, finding a fading burn, and then a smaller scar that had healed, albeit poorly and ugly. She was silent as she worked, applying the ointment as the nurse had instructed. “Okay, hon, can you roll over? I want to do your back while we’re here.” Peggy took a moment, before slowly turning over onto her stomach, holding her breath, dreading Angie’s reaction. She waited, but there was no gasp, no cries, just silence. 

“You don’t have to do it,” Peggy whispered eventually. “I know it’s… it’s a lot.”

Finally, Angie responded with a deep inhale, sucking in obvious tears, “Is it… Is it still bad? The pain?”

Peggy hesitated. Of course it was bad. But compared to how it was at first, when the skin on her back split wide open and the blood wouldn’t stop coming, when the pain was so intense that she her vision went white and nausea bubbled up in her stomach. For a moment, her vision narrowed and her ears failed her and her lungs threatened to stop working. She regained her grip on reality, focusing on the blanket beneath her, how soft it was and how each individual thread was woven together. “It’s better,” she finally said. 

That answer wasn’t satisfying, and Peggy knew that, but she couldn’t fathom telling Anige the real extent of her suffering. Kindly, Angie didn’t push her. “Is it alright if I--”

“It’s fine,” Peggy forced out from between gritted teeth. 

“Okay,” Angie murmured nervously. When her hands touched the largest gash on her back, every muscle in her body stiffened, forcing herself not to flinch away. Slowly and carefully Angie coated each wound with the ointment, whispering a tiny “sorry” or “almost done” everytime she felt Peggy wince. 

Peggy was split between loathing every second that her wounds were open and visible to the world and to Angie, and craving the contact and closeness this brought them. She shuddered to think about the things going through Angie’s head right now. During the days when she was conscious in captivity she spent long hours thinking about what she would say to Angie if she saw her again. How she would tell her that she would understand if she didn’t want this anymore, how she could survive without her and she didn’t need her to take care of her. But now, faced with her comforting touch and steady presence, it was much harder to say that out loud. And it felt terribly selfish. Because Angie deserved better than Peggy’s broken mind and body. But Peggy didn’t want her to leave. So she didn’t say those things. She just thought them, and allowed herself to be consumed by self loathing and anxiety. 

“Okay. We’re done,” Angie said, dusting her hands off on her skirt as if she had just finished any other household task like dusting or sweeping. Peggy sat up slowly, holding her stomach with one arm. “Do you want take a bath now?”

Peggy shook her head adamantly, not wanting any more of her imperfections revealed earlier than necessary. “Let’s just rest for a little bit?” Peggy murmured, struggling to maneuver her shirt over her shoulders, before she felt Angie helping her, tugging it into place. 

“Of course. Whatever you want, English.” 

And so the four of them spent the rest of the evening sitting in the living room, reading and napping and drawing, the radio crackling on all the while. Angie sat on the couch with Peggy’s feet propped on her lap as Peggy dozed, exhausted from all of the stair climbing and emotions of the day. Things weren’t  _ good  _ by any means. They were broken, each of them in their own special way. However, there was a newfound peace that evening, a comfort in the four of them quietly inhabiting the same place, knowing that at least for this moment, they were safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed! Feel free to yell at me in the comments or leave kudos, I appreciate each and every one of you.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had decent holidays! Personally, I am thrilled to be on break from school, even if I have nothing to do except sit in my room and work on college applications. Anyways, this is a relatively short and chill chapter, not a lot of action, mostly just some interaction between our two gals. I hope you all enjoy!

“You really don’t need to help me.” 

“Well, I want to, so too bad.”

“Angie, really, I’m perfectly capable of taking a bath--”

“English, you’ve been in pain all evening--”

“That’s not exactly new, I can handle it.”

  
  
“Just because you can handle it doesn’t mean that you have to.”

“You’re being ridiculous, I don’t understand why you can’t just let me--”   
  


“Because I don’t want you to slip and fucking hurt yourself!” Angie shouted, feeling her face turn red hot, her hands trembling. Peggy’s face went white and void of expression. She took a deep breath, in and out, and her shoulders slumped forward. 

“I just… I just want you to be careful. And I don’t want things to get worse because of a bath,” Angie whispered, closing the distance between them. “I’m sorry.”

Peggy nodded ever so slightly. Angie reached out a hand, a silent request for permission to touch. To her relief, Peggy met her half way, their fingers intertwining. 

Peggy had been home for a two days now, and had been very obviously avoiding bathing. But today, she had decided that it was time. And although Angie understood it was important for her to be independent, she would not entertain the idea of Peggy getting in and out of a bath by herself. She saw how Peggy stumbled around their apartment, wincing with every step, lowering herself down ever so carefully onto their couch. Of course, Angie left the apartment daily for work, but then Peggy was around Steve and Bucky, and they had strength in numbers. But she hadn’t really been alone yet. 

“Okay. Ready?” Peggy nodded again, and Angie led her to the bathroom. She had noticed that occasionally Peggy would simply stop speaking. It wasn’t always clear what triggered it. Sometimes it was obvious that something had happened, but othertimes it felt random. So Angie learned to pay close attention to Peggy’s mood, knowing when to take the lead, and when to leave her space. 

As they stood in the small bathroom, Angie started the bath water, and then reached out to help Peggy take her shirt off, waiting for a nod of consent. The shirt came off and a knot formed in Angie’s stomach as it always did when she saw the scars maring her pale skin. Peggy hadn’t told her what exactly had happened, and maybe she never would, but even Angie could tell that she had endured some sort of torture. 

As Angie’s hands hesitantly reached for the belt on Peggy’s military issued pants, she met Peggy’s eyes. Peggy held her gaze, her eye filled with anxiety, but Angie took the eye contact as consent. She slowly helped Peggy out of her pants, leaving her only in her cotton bra and the men’s underwear shorts she had taken to wearing during the war. Peggy had been changing quickly and alone in their bedroom, never allowing Angie a glimpse at what she was hiding. She visibly stiffened as her right leg was left defensless. It took all of Angie’s self control not to react as she say the scars for the first time. 

It was bad. It looked very, very bad. The nurse at the hospital had told her that her leg had been injuried in a blast injury, with multiple pieces of shrapnel and debris finding a home in her skin, one particular shard hitting and shattering a bone. And this had happened in the initial ambush that rendered them missing in the first place, meaning that Peggy had wandered through the woods for a year and a half on the injured leg before being taken hostage. 

“Okay,” Angie murmured, turning off the faucet. She found the clasp on Peggy’s bra, unhooking it, her delicate fingers barely brushing her skin. The shorts came off next. “Ready?” she held Peggy by the arm, slowly helping her manuever into the warm tub. She didn’t miss the way Peggy’s eyebrows knit together in pain as she lowered all the way into the water. “Okay. Let me just--” she stopped as she felt a hand on hers. 

“Join me?” Peggy rasped, so quietly Angie almost missed it. “Join me?”

“Are you sure?” The two hadn’t… been intimate since Peggy had gotten back, nothing more than a few kisses. And that was fine. Angie wasn’t expecting anything from Peggy, she was more than happy doing whatever she needed. Even now, the act of undressing Peggy or potentially getting in the bath with her, didn’t feel remotely sexual. But she was still wary of boundaries, and of Peggy’s fragility. “Peggy, I would love to. But I don’t want to push you, or--”

“I’m sure. Please,” Peggy said, and her face was so earnest that any of Angie’s concerns melted away instantly. 

“Okay. Of course, English, whatever you want,” Angie murmured, quickly shedding her own clothing. She stepped into the bath, sliding in behind Peggy, her legs wrapping around her sides, the two fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. 

She started scrubbing Peggy’s back with the soapy washcloth, over her shoulderblades that protruded from her back in an unhealthy way, being extra cautious as she encountered scars. She could feel Peggy breathing under her hand. The process was slow and tender, neither of them saying a word, communicating through touch and silence. 

“I’m going to do your hair now. Do you want to…” she trailed off, feeling Peggy’s body stiffen against her. Since the two were reunited, Peggy had not taken her eye patch off. She was due for a glass eye any day now, but Angie had yet to see what it actually looked like. “You don’t need to. I can just be careful.” Peggy nodded in agreement. 

As she worked her fingers through Peggy’s hair, she couldn’t stop thinking about how long it had gotten. “Did you ever cut your hair?” she asked hesitantly. They never talked about Peggy’s time over there, but every once in a while Angie would ask a very small and mundane question. 

“Only once,” Peggy answered, leaning into Angie’s soft touch. “James cut it while I was recovering. Did a shit job.”

Angie giggled as she pictured brooding Bucky Barnes cutting her hair. She had seen the picture of him from the beginning of the war, young and charming, with a cocky smile. Now, he was still snarky, but had the look of someone who held the weight of the world on his shoulders. She tried to picture the old version of Bucky cutting Peggy’s hair, probably laughing and talking easily, only a year or so into the war, if “recovering” meant recovering from the bullet graze she had heard about. It was difficult, but comforting. 

Angie thanked god every day that Peggy hadn’t been alone overseas, that she had such close companions. It was obvious in the way they interacted with each other that they had been alone together for a very, very long time. It was in the way they brought each other back into the moment when they sensed them slipping away. It was in the way that Peggy still refused to call Bucky by his nickname, just because it annoyed him. The way that Steve calmed Bucky down when he got particularly angry, and the way Peggy scolded Steve when she saw that he wasn’t eating. 

“The boys both got their hair cut right when we were… They say it helps them remember where they were.”

“Would you ever want to? Get a trim?” she worked some of the last soap from Peggy’s hair. 

“Perhaps. Not yet,” Peggy answered simply. 

“We’re done, hon. Now, let’s get you out and I’ll braid your hair if you want,” Angie said, although she could’ve had stayed there for eternity. She uncurled herself from Peggy’s body, stepping onto the cold tile, water dripping all over the floor. “Okay, be careful now, it’s slippery,” Angie let Peggy lean on her heavily as she stood and stiffly stepped out of the bath. The moment she was standing steadily on the bathroom floor, Angie wrapped her in warm towel. 

A few minutes later, and they were sitting on their bed together, Peggy in front of Angie as she began to nimbly French braid her long, damp hair. “I forgot how good this feels,” Peggy murmured. 

“Having your hair braided?” 

“Yes,” Peggy inhaled softly. “There weren’t really any women around. Only nurses. But no one who I would ask to braid my hair, of course, so I just did it myself. But something about having it done by someone else…” she trailed off and they sat in the comfortable silence. The apartment was silent except for Bucky and Steve’s hushed voices and the soft sound of the radio coming from the living room. Angie had noticed Bucky turning it on every time he entered the room but she didn’t mention it. 

“Peg?” Angie said suddenly as a thought struck her. 

“Mmm?” Peggy hummed sleepily, having relaxed under Angie’s skillful fingertips. 

“I’m going to visit my parents at the end of next week, and I know you mentioned wanting to get out…” Peggy turned to face her, and Angie’s fingers lost their place in her hair. “You don’t have to come of course, if you don’t want to, I totally understand if that would be to overwhelming, but it’s supposed to be nice out so we could be outside the whole time, I know you don’t like to feel trapped, and I’ve told them about you, so you won’t have to explain-” 

“Angie. Breath,” Peggy cut her off quietly. “Is it… I’d love to meet your parents, darling. Is it okay if I decide on the day? I want to be… I want to make a good impression.” The unsaid words hung between them. Peggy wanted to be  _ herself  _ when she met Angie’s parents. As far as Angie was considered, every version of Peggy was the real version of Peggy and she would be happy to introduce her parents to her any day of the week. 

“I understand. It’s okay. We can wait,” she could see the anxiety and paranoia swirling deep in Peggy’s eye, so she smiled as comfortingly as she could and said teasingly, “Now turn around, English, let me finish that hair so we can get to bed.”

Peggy complied, and soon enough they were lying under the sheets together, close enough to feel each other’s presence but far enough apart to give each other space. Angie allowed herself to be lulled asleep, comforted by Peggy’s still warmth beside her. 

\--

The cold space next to her woke her. She squinted her eyes open to find that it was still dark out, but Peggy was missing from her side. She frowned, worry seizing her mind. “Peggy?” she whispered blearily. She swung her legs out of bed and slipped on her robe before padding over to the door. The living room was dark and silent, no sign of Peggy. “Peggy?” she said again, a little louder, panic coating her words. 

Her eyes scanned the room, as if she had just missed her somehow, but there was still nothing. She stopped for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut and inhaling deeply. Something tickled her nostrils -- cigarette smoke. Cigarette smoke coming from… outside their window? But they were on the third floor. Her eyes snapped open and she tiptoed over to the open window, her heart pounding as she stuck her head out of it.

Peggy was sitting on the fire escape, lit cigarette in hand, dressed only in her soft pajama pants and a tank top. Her hair had come almost entirely loose from her braid, spilling in messy waves down her back. Angie swept a blanket up off the nearby couch and crawled out into the crisp December air. Peggy barely spared her a glance, so Angie just took a seat on the step below her. They sat there in silence for a while, before Peggy spoke. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Peggy rasped, billowing white smoke escaping her lips. 

“It’s okay.” 

“No, you work tomorrow, you should go back to sleep.”

“Here,” Angie handed her the blanket. Peggy took it wordlessly, wrapping it around her shoulders. Angie didn’t know what to say so she just waited for Peggy to make the next move. 

“I got a letter from Dugan . He’s planning to visit some time next week.”

Angie already knew this of course. After Peggy had read that letter she had handed it right to Angie, telling her to go ahead and read it. “How is… are you looking forward to it?”

“I suppose,” Peggy said quietly as she gazed upon the city. 

“What are you thinking about, love?” Angie asked hesitantly, trying to catch her eye. 

Peggy hugged her arms to her chest, leaning against the railing. “I like the noise,” a loud car horn blared over the end of her sentence, emphasizing her words. “And the smoke,” she said, gesturing with her cigarette, “it reminds me… it was quiet and lonely a lot of the time. And smelled… bad. Terrible.” Tears welled in Angie’s eyes as she tried to follow Peggy’s train of thought. She didn’t understand a lot of the things Peggy said these days. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, darling,” Peggy rushed to comfort her, a gentle hand ghosting along her shoulder. 

“No, no, it’s okay, I’m fine hon, I’m sorry,” Angie rubbed her eyes vigorously. “I appreciate you telling me things, I really do. It’s just… When I think about you out there, suffering, and how I was just at home, doing nothing, my heart…” 

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Peggy whispered, low and rumbling, that far away look back in her eyes. 

“I know.” 

After a few moments of silence Peggy spoke again, “You did help me, Angie.”

“What?” 

“You helped me more than you could ever know. There were so many days… When we were out there, when I could’ve just… It would’ve been so easy to just stop moving…” one last puff of smoke whistled out from between Peggy’s cracked lips, the same lips that Angie had dreamed of for four years, the lips that used to hide behind bright red lipstick and now tasted like nicotine. “I always remembered how I promised you to keep fighting to come home to you. I never forgot.” Angie leaned in closer to Peggy’s legs trying to ground her in reality without startling her out of talking. “I never forgot,” Peggy repeated absently, her fingers trailing through Angie’s caramel hair. “Never.” 

“I know, English. I know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. I'll try to update as soon as I can, but as you all know I'm pretty bad at that. All your lovely words and kudos really do keep me going, so thank you! Happy almost 2021!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy meets the family.

“Done!” Angie pulled away from Peggy’s hair, which now fell in full, shiny waves down her back. It wasn’t quite in her old pincurls, but it was more made up than it had been in years. She felt strange, as if she was wearing a costume. She hadn’t donned her signature red lipstick -- it felt to performative somehow, more so than the hair. Her glass eye had arrived a few days prior and the patch was only worn when she needed a break at home. The eye matched her real eye well enough -- the slight scarring around it made it stand out along with the obvious fact that it didn’t move the way a real eye would, but it was passable in brief everyday interactions. She wore simple black slacks with her army green jacket. “You dress up nice, English,” Angie smirked, scanning Peggy up and down. 

Peggy offered a small smile in return, “Thank you, darling.” 

“Hey,” Angie murmured, touching her arm lightly, “You know you don’t have to, right?” 

“I know. I want to. I just…” 

“I know. It’s okay,” Angie said sincerely. “Now. Let’s get going, yeah?” Peggy nodded, taking Angie’s outstretch arm. 

By the time the pair had made it down the many stairs leading to their apartment, Peggy was breathing heavily and a thin sheen of sweat had formed above her brow. It was admittedly much smoother than their first time up the stairs as Angie cheerfully pointed out to her when they reached the bottom. 

The Febuary air was crisp and chilling against Peggy’s cheeks and the wind tousled Angie’s caramel hair as she hailed a taxi. Peggy rolled the window down in the cab, despite the cold weather and the odd look the driver gave her. She wrapped her arm tight around Angie beside her as she watched the city go by, bustling and full of life, seemingly so far away from the reality she had lived for four long years. 

“What are you thinking about?” Angie tucked some stray hairs behind Peggy’s ear. 

“How much I missed this city. And the people in it,” Peggy said, pointedly turning to Angie, who blushed slightly and rolled her eyes. 

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you,” she murmured, trying to act exasperated but unable to contain the small smile that crept onto her face. 

Peggy just smiled back and looked out the window. 

They stepped out of the cab and onto a street crowded with old houses and apartments buildings and people shouting. “This one’s mine,” Angie pointed towards a slightly run down gray house on the corner. Peggy took a shaky breath leaning heavily against her crutch, the metal arm brace digging into her arm. “We can still cancel, hon. They would understand.”

“No. No, I can do this. Just… Remind me what they know again?”

Angie nodded patiently, although they had been through this a few times before, “They know that you’re my best friend who I lived next to before the war. They know that we wrote letters during the war until you went missing. They know that you were rescued after the war and injured, and that now we live together with your two friends you served with.” Angie gave Peggy’s hand a tight squeeze, “I promise, if they ask anything uncomfortable, I’ll knock some sense into them. And we can leave at any time. Alright?”

“Alright.” 

And then they were struggling up the front steps, and the door was opening before they even reached it, and a flurry of noise and energy burst out, surrounding them.

“Amore!” 

“Hi Mamma!” 

“You look skinny, have you been eatin-”

“Look who’s home, Danny come on down, Angie’s here!”   
  


“Gabriel, you don’t need to yell, Jesus Christ-”

“And you must be Corporal Carter!” the warm and plump woman who Peggy assumed was Angie’s mother cried, and the whole group fell silent. 

“Peggy is fine,” she smiled, extending the hand not holding her crutch, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Martinelli, I’ve heard so much about you.”

The woman shook her hand enthusiastically, “Then you must call me Claudia, dear. I was so thrilled to hear that you made it home, our little Angie was so worried for you.”

Peggy felt her heart drop to her stomach, and Angie’s hand rested on her shoulder. “Thank you, ma’am- I mean,  _ Claudia, _ ” she corrected quickly. There was an uncomfortable silence as the two looked at each other, before one of the young men blurted --

“Well don’t just keep them standing outside, Mamma,” and then everyone was moving inside in a wave, Peggy remaining anchored to Angie’s arm. 

“Let me take your coat, dear,” Claudia said, and Peggy handed Angie her crutch as she obeyed. She swayed a bit as she stood, that familiar pain shooting through leg up to her ribs, and Angie steadied her with an arm around her waist. 

“C’mon, Peg, let’s sit down,” she led her through the home and into a living room filled with overstuffed arm chairs and family photos. Peggy sank down into a chair with a sigh of relief as the pressure was taken off her leg. Angie sat next to her with a knowing smile, “Better?”

“Much.”

“Y’know you’re supposed to tell me when you’re in pain,” Angie sighed.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Before Angie could reply, the man Peggy presumed to be Angie’s father entered the room, wine in hand. 

“Wine for you, Corporal?” 

Angie rolled her eyes, “Where are your manners, Papa? Not even introducing yourself?” she turned to Peggy, “Peg, this is my father, Luca Martinelli. Papa, this is Peggy Carter.”

Luca chuckled, his eyes lighting up just like Angie’s always did, “Well, pardon me, Corporal Carter, I did not mean to be rude.”   
  


“No, really, it’s fine. Angie’s being dramatic,” Peggy said playfully, ignoring the tension that gripped her chest at the formal title, “And just Peggy is fine.” 

“That’s my Angie, destined to be an actor since I birth I tell ya,” his expression suddenly turned serious, “Thank you for your service, Peggy. Our country is forever indebted to you.” Angie stiffened beside her. “All three of our boys served.”

Peggy gave a sharp nod, “That must have been difficult. Having all three of them gone at the same time.” 

Luca Martinelli looked at her thoughtfully, no doubt noticing how she dodged the mentions of her own time spent at war. “It was. We were blessed that they all came away unharmed.” Angie must have given him a look from behind Peggy’s back, because he changed the subject, “Now, would you like some wine? It may not be fancy, but no Martinelli family dinner is complete without it.” 

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Peggy gladly took a sip from the glass he handed her. 

“Dinner!” Claudia yelled from a different room. 

Peggy found herself seated at a large dining room table besides Angie with her entire family. Along with Claudia and Luca there were three young men who Peggy presumed to be Angie’s brothers. Angie leaned over and whispered to her, her breath hot on her neck, “You think this is bad, be glad I talked Mamma out of inviting the cousins.”

Peggy chuckled, grateful to Angie both for keeping the gathering relatively small, and for keeping her grounded. 

“Mio dio,” Claudia said once they were all settled, “Thank you for the food on our table, and for our family being together and safe. We thank you especially for our guest, Corporal Peggy Carter. Thank you for bringing her back to our Angie, and to us.” Peggy felt her face burn at the attention, and Angie’s fingers intertwined with her own. “Amen.” 

“Amen,” they all parroted. 

“The pasta is fantastic, Claudia,” Peggy said after she took her first bite.

“Why thank you, dear. You hear that boys? Peggy here knows how to be polite,” Claudia said, shooting pointed glances in the direction of the young men around the table. 

“Oh, gosh, Peg, I haven’t even introduced you to my brothers. This is Gabriel over here,” Angie gestured towards the young man sitting across from Peggy. “And then there’s Danny, and Nic,” the slightly older man, probably in his mid 30s, sitting next to Angie gave her a nod and the one across from Angie gave a small, friendly wave. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Thank you so much for welcoming me into your home.” A small voice in the back of her mind hissed  _ they wouldn’t welcome you if they knew everything you’ve done. If they knew who you really were. You don’t deserve to be here, you should have -- _

“Peggy?” Angie’s concerned voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she saw Gabriel looking at her expectantly. 

“My apologies, what was that?” 

“Where were you stationed?” Gabriel asked, an understanding look in his eyes. 

Peggy hesitated, “France, mostly. And you?” 

“Britain, along with Danny and Nic.” Peggy nodded with a tight smile. 

“Papa, how’s work?” Angie cut in quickly, and the conversation shifted away from her. For the rest of the dinner, Peggy listened to the Martinelli’s chatter, the energy seemingly never ending. For the most part, Peggy just watched and smiled, every once in a while asking a question or confirming something. She was grateful not to be forced into conversation. After dinner, they all moved to the living room, a fire crackling in the fireplace, and everyone sipping wine. 

“So Peggy, if you don’t mind me asking, do you plan on staying in the U.S or do you see yourself moving back to England?” Luca asked as he stood to restock the fire. 

“Well, I--”  _ CRACK.  _

Pain shot through Peggy’s leg as she lept up, the taste of gunpowder hot in her mouth, sweat wetting her brow. Bullets whizzed past her ears, so close she could feel a breeze as they passed. “I just… I just have to…” She stumbled, opening a door, she didn’t know to where, and stepped outside. 

The air was clouded with smoke and it filled her lungs as she gasped, sinking to the ground, bowing her head, clutching the back of her neck. “No… No, no, no, oh god, oh god,” she choked as the words stuck in her throat. 

“Peggy.”

Mud splattered against the back of her neck and blood trickled down her face, barely missing her eye. Men screamed as another grenade hit and all Peggy could do was remain hunched up, wrapping her arms around herself, fingernails scratching at soft skin. She couldn’t see anything anyways so she closed her eyes. 

When she next opened her eyes, the first thing she felt was cold. She was wet, and she realized that the snow on the ground had seeped through her pants. The next thing she felt was pain. Searing, burning pain, and she uncurled her bad leg out from under her, groaning. “ _ Fuck,”  _ she wheezed, a dry sob escaping. 

“Take it slow, Corporal,” a friendly voice sounded from behind her. 

She whipped around, tears pricking at her eyes at the pain in her side as she did so. To her surprise, Angie wasn’t there, but instead Gabriel, sitting on the front steps. Panic gripped her chest and she attempted to stand up, only to come crashing back down onto the snow coated grass. 

“She’s inside, and she’s fine. Just worried about you. I thought you could use some space, and maybe someone who… understands what you’re going through,” he stood, making his way towards Peggy slowly. 

As she looked around some more, she realized there was no blood on her face, and no gun fire or smoke. Instead, there was only that same crowded neighborhood of Italians with slightly rundown houses full of people. “What…?”

“Papa threw another log on the fire. It made a cracking sound.” He offered a hand, “Do you think you can stand?” 

She nodded slightly. Wincing and squeezing back tears as she took his arm and pulled herself slowly to her feet, searching with her other hand for her crutch. 

“It’s inside. Sorry,” Gabriel cringed in sympathy as he watched Peggy falter a bit. He lead her to the front steps. “Sit and have a cigarette for a minute? Take a breather before we go back in there?” She gave a small nod in response and they sat down, Peggy letting out another groan. He handed her a cigarette, lighting it. 

They sat in silence for a minute or so, the smell of nicotine filling the air, helping to numb Peggy’s senses and distract her from the pain. Eventually, Gabriel spoke. “Listen, I don’t know what you went through out there. But… I’m really glad you and Angie have each other. As… friends. She’s my little sister, you know, and she’s real important to me--”

“I won’t hurt her,” Peggy blurted, before she could be accucsed of anything. She wasn’t even sure what he was insinuating about her and Angie’s relationship.

Gabriel studied her for a moment. Peggy could only imagine what he saw. A scared, wild soldier, whose scars were to severe to hide. “I know,” Gabriel said after another puff of smoke. Peggy watched the dull glow of her cigarette fade before dropping it on the ground and crushing it beneath her foot. “Should I get Angie?” She nodded minutely, hearing the door creak open and hushed voices and then someone was sitting down next to her. 

“Hey there, English,” Angie whispered. Peggy kept her gaze focused on the pavement in front of her, feeling her hands start to tremble. “Hey. Peggy, look at me. You’re okay.” Slowly, she looked up. Angie’s eyes were filled with concern and ringed with red. “God, Peg, I’m so sorry,” Angie gently took Peggy’s arm, staring at in. Peggy followed her gaze and found the thin streaks of blood tracing her arm. She didn’t remember hurting herself. “What happened?” Peggy didn’t answer. Instead, she felt her face collapse, as the tears she had been holding back broke through in a desperate sob. “Oh, sweetie,” Angie murmured, wrapping her arms around Peggy, letting her nestle into her as she cried. 

She didn’t know how long they sat like that, but eventually she uncurled herself from Angie and allowed herself to be helped to her feet. Nausea swelled in her stomach and she paused. “Take your time, hon.” Angie handed her her crutch and she slipped her arm into it, comforted by its steady presence. “Alright. Mamma, Papa, we’re heading out. Thank you for dinner.” The Martinelli’s may have said something back, Peggy wasn’t sure. 

The ride back to the apartment and the walk up the stairs passed in a blur, although the climb up took at least three times as long as it had on their way down. They went straight to their bedroom, Angie saying something to the boys who were staring in concern. 

She allowed Angie to help her into pajamas and under the covers. As the two lay in bed, Peggy’s head on Angie’s chest, Angie ran her fingers through her hair. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I’m sorry if I… I’m sorry I ruined tonight.”

“What?” Angie shifted underneath Peggy to get a better look at her. “What are you talking about?”

“It was supposed to be a nice dinner, and…”

“Peggy, I don’t know what you’re talking about. They loved you. Don’t forget all three of my brothers served. They didn’t get hit as bad as you, but it’s not as if they came away unscathed,” Angie said as she stroked Peggy’s shoulder blades thoughtfully. Peggy was silent for a while. 

“Still,” she eventually murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Peggy, stop.”

“But--” 

“I’m serious, stop,” Angie’s voice was thick with unshed tears. “Peggy… I love you. You know that, right?” Peggy felt all the air leave her lungs at Angie’s words and she didn’t move. Instead, she focused on tracing the lines of their stitched quilt methodically, blue patch, green patch, red patch, blue, green, red, blue, green, red. “Well, in case you don’t… I do. I really, really love you, Peggy.” 

“I love you too,” Peggy whispered. She let herself be lulled to sleep by Angie’s soft touch and words, and for the first time since she got home she slept all the way through the nigh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm so grateful to all of you who have stuck with me through this story. As always, kudos and comments are appreciated.


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